Strength and Remorse: Emmett's Sideshots to V&P
by Achelle Candy
Summary: Emmett is faced with the first-time feeling of remorse for his uncontrollable acts of violence and cold indifference towards Rosalie while blinded by bloodlust. Can he control his thirst enough before its too late?
1. 1: Bad Boy? Yep, that's me

This is a collection of sideshots/outtakes to my other fic, Vanity and Patience, but through Emmett's Eyes

To read Vanity and Patience please go to my profile page for the link.

_Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, and its characters, or plot. The characters, books, and plot are property of Stephenie Meyer. I make no money from writing this. I just love Twilight._

**Warning: Lemons in future chapters. Rated NC-17 for a reason. Violence, adult language, drugs, assault, and sexual content.**

_**To adhere better to the Terms of Service at FanFiction(dot)net, I am doing a revisions on my chapters here, and keeping them less explicit. They will now be rightfully fitting into the M-rated category (rather than MA). Please go to my profile and read my story on Twilighted or LiveJournal for the full explicit version. **_

**Chapter Specific Warning: Sexual content in this chapter. It ends with a lemon. You've been warned. Read at your own risk.**

This particular chapter takes place the night before Emmett decides to go camping alone with his ill fated bear mauling; a glimpse of his crazy life as a human. Forgive me that the lemon isn't with Rose. That time will come when it presents itself, rest assured. * wink wink *

Twilighted Beta:

Big thanks to my beta, Lisa aka cfmom, who totally rocks. This story would not be what it is without her.

All Chapters are Emmett's POV

**Playlist:**

Inner Circle – Bad Boys

Dr Dre – Xxplosive

Tim McGraw – Real Good Man

Akinele – Put It In Your Mouth

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"_I'd had a little too much fun in my twenty human years, so I wasn't surprised by the fires of hell."_

-Emmett, on changing into a vampire, from the Twilight Outtake "Emmett and the Bear" by Stephenie Meyer

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**Chapter 1: Bad Boy**

September 3, 1935. The sound of the jazz band filled the smoky room buzzing with people and lively with laughter. I sat at the bar of the local speakeasy just two towns outside my hometown of Gatlinburg, bumping gums with the bartender without a care in the world, or at least I was trying to look that way.

A few feet away from me, surrounded by a crowd, stood my best friend Oscar. He was being loud and obnoxious, his usual drunken mess, while my other childhood friend Daniel stood at his side. I still had a ways to go with my glass of hooch to even get to their state of craziness, but it was all part of a plan.

Turning back to him from taking a glance at my buddies, I grinned at the bartender. To him, I was just there to blow off steam from my tedious job as a manager for a local lumber camp.

"So you've been promoted to the lead lumberjack, huh?" Scottie, the bartender asked, jokingly.

I chuckled in response. "I manage them now, if that's what you mean." It had been quite some time since I'd run into Scottie.

"Actually, you do smell like cedar chips," he laughed.

I snorted. "I'm not surprised by that at all," I nodded. "With all these cabins they're building, cedar is high demand."

"Ah, yes, and therefore you must supply it," Scottie replied as I took a sip of whiskey.

I pointed at him with my hand like I was shooting a pistol. "Exactly." I took another sip and passed it back to him for a refill. "Can't be too mad, I guess. Least I've got a job."

"That's true," Scottie nodded, pouring some mule in a long strand into my glass. It was no secret that the United States was under strenuous economic times.

"Emmett McCarty," I heard a deep sultry voice purr from behind me. I spun around on my stool to see the prettiest dame around. She had blonde curls rolled into a stylish low bun, big blue eyes, and red stained lips stretched in a provocative smile as she stared at me. She was a high-class pro-skirt that reeked of cheap booze and cigarette smoke, but the man in me could not deny she was quite the looker.

"Miss Jeanine," I greeted, nodding as I smiled. My thoughts ran quickly to the last time I saw her almost two years ago. We were caught necking while parked in an alley not too far from here by a copper. I'd known her even before she became a call girl, as we had attended the same high school. She graduated the year before I did. The Great Depression had hit her family hard, causing them to lose the house and all things precious to them. With the sudden death of her parents shortly after, her and her siblings now lived with their grandparents. As a result, it was left to her to provide for her family in any way that she could. She quit letting it bother her a long time ago. Food was more important than pride.

"Hey there, kitten." I winked at her and she winked back, a greeting we used to give each other all the time when I frequented this particular spot a few years back.

"Fancy meeting you here," She held a cigarette in one hand, blowing smoke up to the ceiling before looking back down to meet my eyes. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"That it has," I agreed. I tried my best to keep my eyes from stealing a look at her long luscious gams, but her all too revealing, short, shiny, red dress left me with little else to concentrate on. "A _long_ while," I muttered, letting the word long exaggerate as my eyes followed the curve down her thighs and around her calves to her slick high heels.

She smirked, her demeanor as smug as can be at my appreciative gaze upon her body.

A group of lovely ladies walked by—a couple of which I was quite familiar with. "Hi, Emmett," they all said in unison, and I raised my hand to do a small wiggle of my fingers.

"Ladies," I nodded, giving them a cheeky grin.

"Well aren't we a ladies' man," Jeanine muttered, with a slight bite to her tone. She had turned to look at who said hello, moving closer to me as I sat wide-legged on my stool. She took a possessive step forward, positioning her body between my knees.

"Who? Me? Nah," I smiled. "Never seen them before in my life."

She snorted in response, leaning into me so she could rest her free hand on the bar, taking another hit of her cigarette.

I wasn't too sure why I was flirting with her so much. It had been too long since I'd last seen her that I seemed to enjoy her attention a little too much.

"So did I hear right?" she asked as she blew the smoke out of her mouth. "They got you running the lumberjacks now? Working them overtime and all?"

"I run the show, but I don't overwork my men. I mean, I run a tight ship, sure, but I'd like to think I'm a nice boss, too," I answered, smiling.

"You keep something tight all right," she mumbled to me.

My cock twitched against my leg as my smile cracked from ear to ear.

"You've obviously come a long way since Gatlinburg Pittman High," she commented.

I noted a bit of melancholy in her tone, so I decided to make her feel better by telling her the truth. "Well, you're just as pretty as you were as a cheerleader," I offered, taking a soft swipe with my fingers along her chin. "Probably even more so than ever."

She grinned back at me, her spirits lifted.

"Oh, hey there Jeanine," Daniel slurred, as he stumbled up to the bar, completely lit. "Did ya hear? My man over here won himself a nice little ride last night."

"Oh did he?" she inquired, her eyes never leaving mine. She lifted her hand up from the bar to finger the collar of my shirt.

"Yep, seems McCarty here has quite a lead foot. Won that street rod race last week, and the pink slip to Madden's 1930 Ford Tudor."

I shook my head at Daniel, my eyes switching to him for a moment._ God, why does he have to do that all the time? _Not that I wasn't proud of my winnings, but I didn't really want to flaunt it too much. As much as I won that race fair and square, I knew Lloyd Madden was still livid about it. I loved a fight more than the average Joe, but we still had a task to pull off, and Madden's friends were everywhere in this bar tonight.

"Wow, Emmett," she gushed, placing her palm on me, running it up and down on my chest. "I'm impressed."

"Eh, it was nothin'," I chuckled.

Offering me her cigarette, I gladly took a drag, blowing the smoke out the side of my mouth. My eyes didn't leave hers as I did this.

Daniel quickly caught on from that action that he was definitely intruding in a party for two. "Well, I'm gonna go mingle with the dames," Daniel excused himself, before subtly slipping something into my coat pocket. "Nice seeing you again, Miss Jeanine," he said.

I stared back at him as I discreetly stuck my hand in my pocket and felt a bag of a familiar texture with my fingers.

"Muggles," Daniel mouthed to me before he turned away towards the crowd again.

I nodded once in comprehension. Last night before the race, we had at the public house where I played their roll. I made a comedic act for the crowd, while Daniel pick-pocketed a dealer out of a stash of marijuana. Daniel was just giving me my portion of the "winnings."

Focusing back on the beautiful Sheba that was still rubbing my chest, I smiled ruefully. "Look, Miss Jeanine. I have to apologize. I'm not really here for… _that_."

"Oh, but Emmett, I've missed our times together," she murmured, raising a seductive eyebrow at me.

Her statement went straight to my cock as I felt it twitch once again and grow just a bit against my thigh. I had forgotten she had quite a crush on me. "Uh… you sure are lovely—you know that— but I'm here on other business."

"This_ is_ business," she purred, her hands rubbing lower down my abdomen.

I took her wrists and pulled them away, shaking my head at her. This woman could not distract me tonight.

"Ugh, McCarty, I cannot _believe_ you're blowing me off by not accepting my offer," she hissed slapping me playfully at my shoulder.

"Hey now!" I exclaimed, chuckling and rubbing my shoulder. I leaned in, lowering my voice, and then replied "And if I remember correctly, _you_, my darling, are the one who's best at_ blowing me off_."

Pursing her lips into a closed half smile, she nodded in agreement. "You're right about that." She cocked her head to the side, narrowing her eyes as she examined my face, trying to find my bluff. She let out a sigh at no success. "Well, as long as you never forgot."

I laughed nervously. "I don't think I'd ever forget," I nearly growled into her ear.

She responded with a satisfied grin. "Maybe next time then," she said, and I seemed to note a touch of disappointment in her voice.

All I could do was smile back before she disappeared into the smoky crowd. I couldn't promise her anything. I couldn't even promise anything to my friend and current necking partner, Betty. There was nothing more I could promise a woman, other than today. I still had yet to meet what everyone called "the one"—that special one that both Mom and Nana told me would have me thinking about the future and a family. I was in no hurry to find her either; I was just happy to have fun and live in the moment.

Focusing on the task at hand, I saw a growing crowd around Oscar and Daniel as they spouted jokes and told the best nonsensical stories. The bartenders were beginning to pay attention to them, and my bartender had already drifted away while I spoke to Miss Jeanine. That was my cue.

_It's show time._

Squatting lower than the height of the bar, I snuck behind it. Spotting what I wanted, I grabbed four small bottles of the rarest and finest brand of moonshine and shoved them quickly into several pockets of my jacket before backing on up to step out of the bar.

I felt a barrier suddenly hindering my track, startling me. When I looked over my shoulder, I saw two legs blocking my path. As I further turned my gaze upwards, I cursed as I recognized the man in blue.

_Oh, shit._

"Chief Bland," I laughed apprehensively, trying to disguise my guilt. It was the Sevier County chief of police . The town was small enough that most folks knew each other.

"Emmett McCarty?" he said looking shocked. "I wouldn't figure you to be a regular here."

_Oh so little does he know about me. _"Yep, just dropped my… glasses, so I was trying to look for them."

"Glasses, huh?" he raised a questionable eyebrow at me.

"Uh, yeah, they're new," I replied.

"Sure they are," another deep voice chimed in with a chuckle. It belonged to yet another copper, but this one had been undercover; sitting among the people at the bar. "So who should we get first, the kid, or the whole bar?"

_What did he just say? _I stood up, alarmed. Holy shit, they were going to shut down the speakeasy. Though the Prohibition Act was lifted a couple of years ago, this particular speakeasy still sold some illegal liquors and unlawful homemade beers.

I was grateful that Daniel and Oscar chose that moment to shove each other into some of the crowd that had gathered around them. It didn't take much for this crowd to start a bar brawl, and the chaos was exactly the distraction I needed to make my escape. After getting the crowd going, Daniel and Oscar chose to exit through the back door, while I side stepped the coppers that were no longer paying attention to me. That momentary lapse in their attention was all the opportunity I needed, but it was short lived as I heard them calling after me as soon I passed through the doorway. I laughed at them as I began to run. This was the fun part.

Daniel and Oscar met me a few blocks over, and we realized that we were being pursued. Again, we all took off in a concerted effort to avoid a trip in the paddy wagon.

We were running for our lives and laughing. No matter how fucked up our situation was, we always seemed to find the entertainment value in it—or at least I usually did. Approaching an intersection, I turned to my friends. "Guys, we're going to have to split up so we can confuse them," I spouted through panting breaths.

"Good idea, I'll see you later, hopefully," Oscar said.

"Damn, this is a waste of a night," Daniel whined. "If I get arrested again…"

"Quit worrying, Dan, Jesus," I insisted. "Just have fun with it." I patted him on the back in a reassuring manner. "Good luck, guys." And then we split went our separate ways. I went left, while Oscar took the route straight ahead, and Daniel sprinted towards the right. I heard running behind me, and as I checked over my shoulder, I recognized the brown civilian suit following me. This copper was more persistent than most I'd encountered in my previous deviations from the lawful side of society.

With the undercover copper heavy on my tail, I ran as fast as I could, dodging around a corner before he could see. I slipped into an alley, hoping he'd pass me by.

I hid behind a dumpster that was an obvious hiding place, but my only option. The suspense was exhilarating, my heart was pounding loudly, and the adrenaline was pumping freely into my arteries. Moments like these were worth cherishing. Every bit of my life was fun and exciting, and I had to laugh at the situation even though most people would be a little more concerned if they were in my current predicament.

I heard footsteps coming my way and I knew this was it. The copper was going to nail me for stealing some moonshine, and possession of marijuana. I hid the bottles and the stash further by stuffing them into the pockets of my trousers, hoping they wouldn't find them so easily. My heart accelerated and was now beating a mile a minute. I couldn't see a possible way out of this, but I didn't move a muscle anyway. Maybe Lady Luck would grant me a boon tonight. The ladies were typically sweet on me, perhaps Lady Luck found me charming enough to help me out of this little mess. I decided to move just enough to peek around the edge of the dumpster to see how close the copper was to my hiding place.

A figure loomed from the street, appearing through the fog as it walked my way… and, to my surprise, there _she_ was.

It wasn't the copper at all. A 5'7" delicate chassis of a dame was walking towards me, swinging her hips as she made her way closer to me.

"Jeanine??" I called out, bewildered, as my eyes adjusted to the dim light and swirling fog.

"I saw you run over here," she said, her face now coming into the light of the nearby lamppost. "What are you doing?"

I sighed in relief, but was shocked and dumbfounded that it was her. "I… uh—"

"Running from the cops I see?" she smirked, swinging a fur tail from her coat around in a circle seductively.

"Basically," I admitted, a bit ashamed.

"Naughty boy," she murmured, inching her way over to me, opening her coat so that her dress and my clothes were the only thing between us as her body lightly grazed against mine.

I bit back a growl as I immediately felt her nipples through the thin material of her dress and brassiere brush against my chest. I stepped back, a bit excited by this sudden move, but also aware that the coppers wouldn't so easily give up on their pursuit of me and my friends.

"Relax, honey. They're long gone," Jeanine purred, pressing herself against me as I backed up into the brick wall of the building. Her hand slid from my chest down to my crotch and rubbed my now throbbing, swollen member. "The other guys are actually with _my_ friends."

I knew what she meant with that statement. Oscar and Daniel had been able to evade the cops and hook up with some pro-skirts. I had never been so bold as to go completely all the way with these skirts like they did. First, I was never too sure where they've been; and second, my Nana's Christian upbringing managed to keep me an almost virtuous man; rather uncharacteristic for a man of twenty years, but my respect for my Nana went deeper than my sexual urges.

Though technically I was still a virgin, that didn't mean I couldn't be a necking bandit. In fact, at seventeen, Jeanine was my first ever encounter to anything close to sexual, but I necked quite frequently with many other dames since. Recently, there had only been one girl at the moment, but not by choice, as it all was just circumstantially convenient.

"Uh… Miss Jeanine…" I gasped, as my breath hitched from the sensation of her hands on me, "I uh… don't… have any money." The friction of her hand running up and down my length through my slacks was warm and enticing, and my hips involuntarily thrusted forward to the rhythm.

She licked and kissed on my neck and behind my ear before she began to whisper into it. "Oh baby, don't worry," she said softly, "This one is on the house."

My mind ran immediately to Betty, and I felt horrible that I would think of her in this moment. She wasn't my girlfriend at all, but only my secret necking partner for the past year. It was only recently that I realized that continuing to neck with Betty was eventually going to hurt her, as she would be expecting it to lead somewhere. Betty was, for the most part, a nice girl, and she was leaning towards looking for a man to settle down with. The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt a woman's feelings, because I knew I'd regret what I did, and I'd be damned if I _ever_ did anything I would regret. We had spent most of last Saturday night petting heavily in the back of my truck, and the look in her eyes when I pulled away before taking her home let me know I should end it soon.

Meanwhile, this dame in front of me was pawing viciously at my pants, eager to get them off as she knelt down on the cold cement.

_Holy hell and all devils in it!_

It'd been close to a good two years since I'd seen this woman, yet we were still so comfortable around each other. All of this was too familiar. In fact, I couldn't stop from grinning from ear to ear. I tried to be as gentlemanly as I could as I let my coat fall to the ground so she could use it to support her knees, but unlike previous years, I had mixed feelings at this point.

Considering I had no commitment to Betty, I shouldn't feel guilty, yet I couldn't deny the feeling crawling up my chest even as I tried to focus on the dame on her knees in front of me. I then felt the constricted area of my pants loosen, and a draft of the cold foggy weather on my groin; I knew at that moment, that I was lost. Though Betty and I necked frequently, I could never get her to put her mouth where I wanted it most…

Jeanine's warm, eager hands clutched at my shaft for a moment so she could guide me to her lips, and a shudder ran through my body in response.

I was powerless to speak up… to stop what was about to happen, and I didn't want to anyway.

Several hot minutes had past. It was too short a time. It was enjoyable, but like all good things, it had to come to an end.

She calmly stood up from her knees, licking her lips, as I quickly zipped up my pants and fastened my belt back on. "Thanks, sugar. That sure was sweet," she mumbled softly, but something wasn't right. It sounded forced, like it was rehearsed. Though she smiled at me, it didn't reach her eyes.

I suddenly felt a slight pang of guilt. "No, kitten… " I insisted between huffs for more oxygen, feeling pity on her. Her life was probably a lonely mess, never being the one that a man came home to; just the one he ran in secret with. "Thank_ you_." I kissed her on her cheek, still quivering breathlessly from the aftermath of my release. She bid me good night, averting her eyes from me and then watched her walk away.

She was an intelligent creature. She knew nothing could ever happen between her and her clients except business. I was never one to lead a woman on, as I was always brutally honest and straightforward with what I wanted with her as well as with every other woman I'd ever known. She knew not to linger after such actions—always knew when to pull away—but her face showed me that she found it hard to walk away from me.

I let my head fall back against the brick wall and I leaned my body against its cold hard surface, shutting my eyes as I tried to catch my breath. I knew all the fun that I had wasn't always good in the eyes of the church, and one day it was going to catch up with me. I frowned.

Somewhere, Nana was rolling over in her grave.

"Oh well," I breathed to myself, picking up my now damp jacket from the wet concrete and readjusting my cap before heading to my new hotrod a couple of blocks over.

During my drive home, I shrugged the whole circumstance off. It was all I could do.

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Author's Note:

Please don't kill me for letting that happen. You must realize this is BEFORE he ever meets Rosalie, and I don't imagine him to be "without" experience when they meet. Tune in next time, where we meet his family, and we reveal how he met Betty, and what role she plays in his life. It may also reveal why he ends up camping alone for the bear to find him. You just never know.

Thank you to Paige, aka WndrngY, author of Never Sleep in a Strange Man's Bed, for letting me use her southern quote "Holly hell and all devils in it!" I think I found a fitting spot for it!

**Please note:** Updates for this fic will be slow, since V&P is my biggest priority. I guestimate about 3-4 weeks per update so please sit tight.

**1930's Vocabulary:**

So I've been doing research on 30's slang, and I truly believe that Emmett would be sporting the latest trends in men's fashion, as well as in speech, so here's a list if you guys didn't get it

Speakeasy – underground bar disguised as something else or hidden behind an unmarked door

Moonshine - whiskey

Bumping Gums – talking it up

Lit -drunk

Hooch - Booze

Skirt/Dame/Broad – woman

Pro-skirt – high-class call girl

Gams – legs

Muggles – Marijuana

Pinks – ownership papers/deeds/titles

Copper – a cop, policeman

Chassis – a woman's figure

Sheba – seductive woman

To blow someone off – to cool down or release one's steam by giving a blow job

**Please review and let me know what you think**, **as each review feed my creative soul, and inspires me to keep writing.**

And if you like the story and want to discuss that or anything further, please come by and play on the Vanity and Patience thread in the forum under Fanfiction/Pre-Twilight.


	2. 2: God, Just Shoot Me

This is a collection of sideshots/outtakes to my other fic, Vanity and Patience, but through Emmett's eyes.** To read Vanity and Patience, please find the link on my profi**le.

_Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, and its characters, or plot. The characters, books, and plot are property of Stephenie Meyer. I make no money from writing this. I just love Twilight._

**Warning: Lemons in future chapters. Rated NC-17 for a reason. Violence, adult language, drugs, assault, and sexual content.**

**Chapter Specific Warning: Adult content, but no lemons. **

This chapter is a direct continuation of chapter 1.

Big thanks to my beta, Lisa aka cfmom, who totally rocks. This story would not be what it is without her.

**Playlist:  
**TLC – Creep  
My Chemical Romance – I Don't Love You  
Chris Daughtry – Over You  
American Rejects – It Ends Tonight  
Guns N Roses – Don't Cry  
Usher – You Remind Me

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**Chapter 2: Just Shoot Me **

Sunlight filtered through my window penetrating my eyelids and testing my slumber as I tossed in my twin-sized bed. I was in the middle of the best dream when it had suddenly turned into a nightmare. I was working at the lumberyard, when both Betty and Jeanine showed up looking for me. Realizing they both were there for me, they began to argue with one another and had everyone watching them. The argument grew into shouting, and I tried to break it up. A fight broke out between them—a physical catfight. Somehow they ended up tearing each other's clothes off and kissing each other. And then, they began kissing me.

_Yes!_

Before I could truly enjoy what happened in my dream at that point, the naughtiness was over and I was suddenly standing in front of my parish congregation in a suit. Both women appeared with me at the front of the church, each wearing long white gowns, and I was being forced to choose between them by my father.

I wanted to choose no one.

Bad dream. Bad dream all around.

I tried to run but my feet wouldn't move. Looking down, I realized shackles were tied to both of my ankles. I had no interest in being locked into a loveless marriage with some broad I had lukewarm feelings for. Neither of them carried enough emotional significance for me to want to be with one faithfully for the rest of my life. I wrestled with the shackles, trying to find a way out of them, but before I knew it the hem of a white gown was in front of me. I followed the trail of the dress up to the face and there she was.

It was Betty.

My father had made my choice for me. I shouted my objection, raising my voice as much as I could, but it was no use. I tried to scream but I couldn't. No one could hear my protest.

My eyes flew open, but I squeezed them shut right away, bothered by the blaring sun. I pulled a pillow over my head, trying to block it as I waited for my pupils to adjust to the light. I mulled over last night's events: the booze lifting, speakeasy being busted, the copper chase… Jeanine's warm mouth gliding up and down my… _hmm, better not linger on that thought._

I heard noises coming from the kitchen, and realized everyone was up; everyone but me. The smell of baked bread permeated the house… _God, I love Sundays._ I looked at the clock, and it read 11:30. I sat up reluctantly, stretching my arms and back before hopping to my feet. I stepped out of my bedroom and into the restroom to take a leak and shave the two-day-old stubble on my face. As I stepped out of the bathroom, I ran a comb through my tousled crown.

"That sure smells good," I crowed happily. As I stepped out into the living room, I looked to my left, startled by an unexpected person sitting on our couch.

"Betty," I said, a bit surprised to see her so early after Sunday service. I figured it was a short mass.

"Hi Emmett," she smiled, sitting up suddenly. She was in a green polka-dotted dress, with her shoulder length red hair pulled away to one side. Her creamy complexion, dotted with millions of light brown freckles, seemed to glow as she smiled at me with her rosy lips.

She was cute—pretty even—for a redhead, though my preference normally favored blondes. She was certainly a ripe tomato; her hourglass figure was quite voluptuous. Her round chassis consisted of full hips, a tiny middle, and a large set of lovely boobies. Unfortunately, I wasn't too happy to see her, considering what I had realized about her lately. I didn't miss how her green eyes sparkled as she looked at me, but up until lately, I assumed it was just the way she looked all the time. I didn't consider it was the look she wore specifically when I was around. Realizing this fact was leaving a well of guilt in my stomach.

I nodded hello rigidly before heading straight for the kitchen without a word.

"You missed service," she called after me.

"Yeah," I replied, my voice trailing off.

I found my dad smoking a cigar in the corner of the kitchen while he was reading the paper. He had his reading glasses on, its grey rims blending with his salt and pepper hair. He looked up at me with a smirk. "Mornin' son. Glad to know you're alive."

"I'll say," my stepmother, Sandra chimed in, working over the stove preparing a pot roast. Her auburn hair was in a bun as she worked over the stove in an apron. "You seem to routinely miss Sunday Church."

I sighed lightly, not responding to her. She and I weren't close. It wasn't anything about not liking her—she was a nice person for the most part. However, she just _wasn't _my mother, _or _my Nana, and I would've rather she remembered that. Stepping over her bounds of her role in my life was something she did way too often.

It was awkward for me when they were first married, especially since she's thirteen years younger than my dad. I was only twelve years old, but I was old enough to pay attention to "adult things." My Nana always had a sneaking suspicion that Sandra was after my dad's money. If that was the case, she had no idea my father didn't have any, and anything extravagant we had was from my mother's side of the family. I wonder if that tainted my view of her a bit as well. I truly wanted my dad to be happy, so I'd accepted her as his wife. However, I never believed that he loved her like he had loved my mom, and no one could take her place in any of our hearts.

"Your brother's coming over with Amelia and the kids," my father continued. "They're bringing a nice roasted chicken. They went to go pick it up."

"Neat-o," I responded quickly, grabbing a piece of carrot from the cutting board and throwing it into my mouth.

"Need any help," Betty offered to Sandra, walking into the kitchen and taking a potholder from Sandra's hands to help her pull out the fresh loaf of bread from the stove. I felt her watching me from the corner of her eyes.

"Sure, actually if you can help me take down some laundry from the line outside while this simmers, that'd be great." Grabbing a couple laundry baskets, they stepped out of the kitchen and into the backyard. Sandra turned to us and asked, "Will you boys watch this while we take the laundry in?"

"Sure, hun," my dad answered, waving his hand in the air.

I immediately turned to my father as soon as the door shut behind him. "Pop, must she be here _all _the time?"

"Who?" His face seemed puzzled

"Betty," I mouthed in an answer, inclining my head in their direction.

"Of course! What kind of silly question is that?" My father raised his voice, stunned.

I held my finger to my lips to remind him to shush. "It's a question," I replied in a whisper.

My father gave me a stern expression. "Look, she's your mother's only sister."

I cringed automatically. "_Step_mother," I corrected him. "My _step_mother's only sister." Not only was Sandra not my mother, but the fact that I routinely fooled around with her sister made that fact even bigger in my mind. "Hell, Betty's not even her blood. She's just Sandra's _step_sister." I pointed out, as if that would make it any better.

We were _not _related.

At _all_.

I shivered at the thought. Betty was in no way my aunt, but Sandra's baby stepsister, who happened to be a bit over two years younger than me. It had all been too convenient for me with easy access, when Betty moved from Michigan a year ago to a house down the street. We didn't grow up together. I met her at my dad's wedding to Sandra when she was nine and I was twelve. I hadn't seen her since. She moved here after her mother passed away a year ago, virtually a stranger to me until then. She and Sandra's father, an alcoholic mess who wasn't fit to care for her in his own, came to live with her aunt, Mary Sponaugle, here in Gatlinburg.

Though it was all fun in the beginning, I was starting to believe that convenience was all our fooling around was, and nothing more. I dreaded the consequences of my actions—that I had permitted such an affair to go on for so long. Last night's situation with Jeanine proved to me that no one had my heart, and I feared facing Betty for this reason. She was very forward, and I would give anything to avoid her. However, no one knew about us, or the things we did when we were alone. We were each other's secret.

"Fine, stepmother's stepsister, and a kid sister like that. And what with all she had endured with her family, we can't just turn her away. We're practically family now, son."

I didn't press it any further. Betty was always here on Sundays for lunch, but unlike many times before, I never minded it. I decided to let it go, even though I wasn't looking forward to this meal.

I watched as my dad's eyes passed over my shoulder and through the window at our driveway. His eyes narrowed. "Say boy, that new automobile of yours, is it hot?" My father asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow at me.

I looked over at my shoulder, staring at the hot rod parked in front of my truck, smirking to myself that I had two cars now. I turned to my father, furrowing my brows at his question before my eyes widened with understanding. "Wait, are you asking me if I stole it?" I asked.

"Quite frankly, yes," he answered, and his voice was stern with resolve. "I reckon I am."

"Of course not," I retorted, irritated at his assumption. "Won it fair and square in a drag race. Got the pink slip in my room."

"A drag race," he mocked, disgusted. "You know you might want to think about growing up, son. All of your gallivanting with your friends every night can't be any good. Don't you tire of bachelorhood?"

Shaking my head, I laughed. "Not this again."

At that moment, Sandra and Betty walked in with a pile of clothes, heading to place it in my parents' bedroom.

My father leaned into me. "You're not getting any younger. You need to consider getting married, and starting a family. Have a wife to take care of you, and have you provide for her and the kids." He lifted his hand to my back, patting it. "Learn some responsibility." He turned back to his paper, flipping to the next page.

I leaned into my father just as the women came back into the kitchen. Sandra put Betty on potato-chopping duty on the other side of the room. "I have my job, Pop. You know they love me down at the lumber yard. I manage all those men and I do well with it. It was a great promotion. You have to be proud of at least that. I mean, I just want to relax with my friends sometimes," I explained softly. I didn't care to have the girls in on our conversation. "Besides, who would I marry? There's no one around that's worth it to me."

"Betty seems to have eyes for you," he said, lowering his voice below a whisper.

Apparently, even as a secret, some things didn't get past my dad. Betty had been careless lately, staring at me for too long in front of my family members, including Pop.

I narrowed my eyes at him, hiding my face from the ladies behind his newspaper. "Pop, I love you… but you've got to be kidding me," I seethed through my teeth.

I looked over in her direction, catching her watching us talk. She looked down quickly, turning her attention back to chopping the potatoes. She tipped her head forward so that her red hair would fall to cover her face, but she wasn't fooling me. I wondered for a moment if she had anything to do with this idea, maybe planting it in my father's head that we'd make a good match. What a sneaky, manipulative broad.

"Why not?" Pop asked. "She's practically part of the family. We all get along well. You two seem to get along just fine."

"Getting along isn't grounds for marriage, Pop," I argued.

At that point there was a knock at the door, and my brother Elliot filed in with his wife, Amelia—who I called Amy—and his kids, my three-year-old niece, Judy, and my baby nephew, Bobby. Amy held a large plate with a foil covered bird on top, and Elliot had my nephew on his shoulders, with Judy holding his hand.

"Uncle Emmett," Judy exclaimed running to me. She hugged my leg before I could get a chance to grab hold of her myself, carrying her up to wrap her in a big bear hug.

"Judy-pudy!" I barked, swinging her around as she laughed her adorable little laugh. Her hair, sandy brown ringlets, bounced along with my movements.

After a few minutes of playing with my niece and baby nephew, I joined the rest of the family to help prepare what I could for lunch. I set the table and then offered to help Amy with her famous cinnamon apple cider. She had already started the base, bringing it in a pot to the house. I threw it onto the stove to reheat while everyone was busy doing their own appointed task for lunch. Just a few minutes to get it to boiling, and all that was left to put in it was the spice.

I was able to put in what amount of cinnamon the cider needed before I felt the left cheek of my rear being grabbed from behind me. My eyes widening, I jumped at the unexpected move, and ended up tipping the bottle of spice. Cinnamon spilled on my shirt, a copper colored dusty cloud in its wake. I spun around and saw Betty biting her lip to keep herself from laughing.

I looked at her, shocked at her audacity at such a forward pass in front of the family. "What the hell?" I asked in a low voice. Any other day I would have laughed it off, but today she was testing my tolerance.

"Relax," she whispered, with a devilish grin. "No one saw."

I looked around and realized most everyone had gone to wash their hands or was listening to the radio in the living room, aside from Amy who was preparing the chicken fixings on the table. "You need to quit it," I chastised Betty under my breath.

"Oh wow, Emmett. Let me help you with that," Betty volunteered, raising her voice with so that everyone could hear her. She began to brush the copper colored powder off of my shirt. "You can be so clumsy, Em."

I tried to shake the cinnamon off my shirt with my hands. Her hands pressed intently against the muscles of my chest as she rigorously brushed the dust off above my own. _Sneaky broad._ My eyes caught that her nipples had perked on her plump breasts; evident through the thin material of her brassiere and dress. I averted my eyes from her, and felt my manhood stirring in my pants despite myself. "I don't need your help," I seethed through my teeth, stepping back.

Betty recoiled and I immediately regretted my snappy request. Yet, how else would I get my point across?

"Emmett," Amy called over her shoulder. "Get the broom and sweep up the cinnamon."

As I went into the closet to grab the broom and dustpan, I realized I needed to tell her today. I had to cut Betty loose. She walked away, her soft, round figure swaying into the living room.

She tried to put on a reserved charade for everyone else, but I knew better. She wasn't the angel that she projected herself to be. In fact, she was very much a little she-devil. She was aggressive—very unlike the refined young ladies I'd known around here. I had always played off her forward nature, happily riding on her initiative to find ways to be alone together for a petting session. However, she had always assured me that she had no interest in me for anything more. It worked for a good few months—necking with no strings attached, but I was an idiot to let it continue for so long. I should have known that eventually one of us would begin to fall in love. I was never in any danger of that, only that I felt that I cared for her, and was too comfortable with the fact that she was always there for me.

We ate lunch and laughed at things as a family. I sat at the farthest side of the table from Betty to avoid any possible eye contact or physical contact she may try under the table with her hands or feet like she'd do sometimes. I sighed. I used to like it. I used to find it exciting—the sneaking around, the stealing glances, the attempts at trying to touch one another in some form without being too obvious.

Now, it wasn't fun. Now, the weight of our actions felt like a ton of logs being carried on my back. Now, I hated the responsibility of her feelings, knowing that could hurt her if I wanted to. I didn't want to. I felt trapped—like shackles on my feet in my dream. No matter how much fun I had with her this past year, our necking was resulting in me building a prison for myself, getting taller with everyday I prolonged our situation.

I stuffed myself silly with the pot roast and baked chicken. I laughed as I listened to the cute stories Amy told us about Judy's apparent desire to grow up and become a lady, getting caught trying to wear her mom's high heels, dresses and hats. She regaled us of tales about baby Bobby, who had just learned to walk. We all laughed together, and aside from the scrutiny-like side-glances from Betty, I had a blast.

When lunch and the family discussions were over, most everyone excused themselves from the table.

"Level with me, kid, you ain't never thought about Betty in that way?" my dad pressed while Elliot and Amy padded around in the kitchen, washing dishes and clearing the table. We had all just finished lunch, and Betty went with Sandra to deliver some food to their Aunt's house down the street.

"Nope," I said, without a thought, handing Elliot my dish. I bounced Bobby on my lap. Judy was running around playing house with her little doll.

My father studied my face. "I just assume all those times that the two of you slip away for a while there isn't more going on than just family friendship."

So he had noticed. I kept my face relaxed. "Not in the least, Pop," I answered below my breath. So I lied, a little. Damn him for being so observant.

"You two go out at least once a week together. I just assumed—"

"Well, you assumed wrong," I sighed, giving him a challenging smirk. "She doesn't have any friends; I'm the only person she knows around here. I'm trying to be accommodating, just like you asked me to when she first moved here last year."

And he had.

It had been a good few years since I'd last seen Betty. She was a 9-year-old with pig tails, carrying a doll to my dad's wedding the first and only time we met. In fact I had forgotten she existed. Seeing her again—a well-developed young lady, only a few days from turning seventeen—surprised me, but I thought nothing of it at the time. It hadn't crossed my mind. I wasn't trying to do anything with her, even when my father insisted I take her out on the town her first evening here. In fact, I had no real interest in the dame. I was just running an errand for my dad, showing around a distant and estranged family friend.

That first night I decided to take her to a burger joint in town, and I coincidently found a secluded parking spot. It all happened too quickly, and I never even made it out of the car. She was on me before I could put the car in park, straddling me and squeezing herself between my body and the truck's steering wheel. She sent her shirt flying off within seconds, and before I knew what was going on, she'd shoved her taut, pink nipple into my mouth. Before I could collect myself, she had her hand down my pants, stroking my member in the driver's seat as she grinded herself against my aching scrotum.

What's a nineteen year old lounge lizard like me going to do with that? Tell her to stop?

Yeah, I didn't think so.

"We're just friends," I mumbled, my mind heavy with my memory of the odd and unexpected evening I spent with her—the beginning of our messy fling. We shook hands at the end of that night, agreeing that it would never happen again. The agreement didn't last long, for the next time I was obligated to take her out we found ourselves groping each other again in the back of my truck. It led me to make a strict agreement with her. As long as we both knew that we were only in this for its physical nature and _nothing more_, then we could continue with this teenage necking affair.

However, that wasn't the case anymore, and she was quickly becoming a boil on the buttocks of my existence. I was one year older and one year wiser than when we started this arrangement, and I just couldn't keep doing this. Not to mention, the dame was persistent to the point of almost being crazy.

"Who are we whispering about?" Elliot asked, breaking me out of my reverie. "Why are you all being so secretive?"

I handed the baby to my brother as I stood up to stretch my arms for a moment. "No one," I answered quickly, looking down at Elliot. He and I had the same dark hair as our dad, but the hazel eyes were from our mother. He was four years older than me, but I was four inches taller than him, and about thirty pounds of muscle heavier.

"Oh my," Amy gasped. "You're talking about Betty, aren't you?"

I sighed and took a seat again, taking the bouncing baby boy back into my lap.

"Are you serious?" Elliott broke out in laughter, and Amy tried to keep from giggling in the corner.

"No," I retorted in my loud voice. "No, we're not."

The look on my father's face, however, with his sheepish grin gave it all away.

"Damn you," I cursed, shielding the baby's ears with my hands. "Damn you all."

"Whoa, what's eating _you_?" Elliot asked.

I was usually a jolly individual, but I was just about at my wit's end about the whole Betty debacle. "Mind your own potatoes," I muttered wryly.

"Wow, we're in a mood today, aren't we, little brother?"

"Well I, for one, wouldn't personally push Betty on Emmett," Amy interjected, rinsing off the silverware as she smiled at me with a wink. I smiled at her in return, thankful that she was on my side. What would that make her, his aunt _and_ wife? That just… gives me the heebie-jeebies."

I suddenly felt defensive, realizing that if she knew what Betty and I were up to, she'd think the same thing. "Well, we're not related. We're not blood. She's not even Sandra's blood."

"No, your right. You're not blood, but it would still be… strange."

"She's cute, though, Em," Elliott egged on encouragingly. "You said so yourself, she's not related to us. I catch her staring at you quite often lately. She seems to like you a lot."

_That's what I'm afraid of,_ I thought. I quickly looked for a rebuttal—some sort of flaw that I could pick on. "She's too young, very immature. You are all insane."

Amy sat down at the table next to my dad and me, taking the baby from me. "Too young? She just turned eighteen the other day." She kissed Bobby and cooed at him for a few seconds before amending, "That makes her of marrying age." She wiggled her eyebrows at me, teasingly, throwing her long sandy brown hair back over her shoulder.

I made a disgusted face, and she chuckled. I couldn't help but chuckle back. I loved my sister-in-law. She was the sister I never had, and my brother had chosen well. What was great about her was that she was just as sweet on him as he was smitten with her. I had yet to find a woman in my life—if I were to find one at all—that would equal that kind of connection.

It was the love that my mom used to tell me about; that my Nana used to preach to me about. My nana's words still read clear in my mind. _You will find great love, and you should save your special time to share with that person. None of these little girls throwing themselves at you will do, Emmett. You need to wait for someone special._

Elliot was lucky enough to find that in Amy. I had to admit I was envious of him for that reason, but I hadn't felt it so much as I did at this moment. I fought a grimace that threatened to crack across my features as I found myself comparing it to my current circumstance to their love.

I squirmed in my chair. "Can we talk about something else? I think I liked it better when we were discussing Amy and Bobby's nursing schedule." I wiggled my brows playfully at her as she turned her chest away from me.

I felt a backhand swat to the back of my head. "Hey, behave!" My brother barked. "Find your own wife to discuss nursing babies with."

"Exactly! That's what I've been telling him!" my dad joined in, and they all laughed.

"Ugh, you all are so unbelievable!" I exclaimed, but, despite my disgust, I couldn't keep from laughing either.

"What's so funny?" I heard Sandra say as she walked through the door with the redheaded she-devil behind her.

"Nothing," I answered quickly.

"Well actually," Amy chimed in, "we were discussing playing a game of charades at our house later tonight. Bring the leftovers to our place, and we'll provide the games and fun."

"Solid!" I chirped.

"Oh that sounds fun," Betty interjected. "I'm good at playing games."

I fought rolling my eyes. _Yes, she is._ As the family talked over moving the party over to Elliot's house, I realized I didn't want to spend a moment longer with Betty. I had to back out of this, and find a way to do it. In fact, the idea of getting away from my family was increasingly getting better and better by the minute. What could I do? What could I say? I had to think quickly as they began discussing plans on moving the festivities over to Elliot's house.

"Actually, I forgot that I told Oscar and Daniel that I'd go camping with them tonight." So they weren't really coming, but I needed an excuse out of the house and away from my family.

"Camping?" my father asked, his eyes curious. "On a Sunday? Don't you have work tomorrow?"

"Yes I do, but I've been camping on a weeknight before. I'm perfectly fine to go to work in the morning." I didn't do it often, but I have gone camping on a weeknight a few times before. I wasn't sure why my father was giving me a hard time about it now.

I volunteered to take the trash out, gathering the bags. I pushed my way through the back door and walked around the side of the house where we kept our trash cans.

"Am I coming, too?" a high voice asked from behind me.

"Excuse me?" I asked, turning to meet her big green eyes. Immediately, I was checking around the immediate area or the windows to see if anyone could see or hear us.

She didn't seem as concerned, her attention directed completely at me. "Camping, can I come with you?" she asked again.

"Um… it's a guys trip," I snorted, not appreciating her assumption that she was invited.

"Please, Emmett," she sniffed. "There are no _guys_. You've used this excuse to be with me before."

I gave her a puzzled look before I remembered that I _had_ used it as an excuse once, about three months ago. _Damn this crazy broad_. "Well, we're really going camping."

"And I can't come along," she stated. It wasn't a question. She was just direct, and awfully presumptuous. If there was one thing you could say about her, Betty's persistence was relentless.

"I seriously doubt Miss Mary would let you out for the night. It's not proper for a young girl, you know. Don't you have school tomorrow?"

"You could always take me home," she said inching towards me before dropping her voice to a whisper, "when we're done." She traced the hem of her neckline near the small teasing dent of her cleavage.

My eyes followed her fingers instinctively, but I shook off my un-gentlemanly thoughts, focusing on her face instead. It was easier to keep my head on straight when I stared at her face. "It's not that kind of a trip, Betty."

Her expression turned sour. "What's wrong with you, Emmett? You've been acting really weird all day. And lately you haven't been around at all. I haven't seen you all week." By the end of her complaints, her face had turned gloomy.

I looked at her crestfallen face, and my throat swelled up with guilt. This would be the time to let her know it was over. The time to tell her we couldn't continue this… this sordid deal.

"Ha—have you…" she tried to say but her voice trailed off. She took another breath, her heart shaped face apprehensive as she spoke her next phrase. "Have you met someone? Is something going on?"

My stomach churned as I heard the discomfort in her voice. I shook my head. "No, I haven't." Feeling pity on her, I wondered, for that brief second, if maybe I was wrong. Maybe my father had a point. Maybe I had held onto her for a reason. Maybe I wasn't seeing the possibility when I looked at her.

"Well, that's good," she sighed. "I thought maybe it was all in my head." She looked relieved, and the pain in her eyes, now slightly glassy from tears that threatened to fall in her insecurity, had turned into hope.

Hope.

Unfortunately, it was that hope that made me realize in the next moment that we could never be. I didn't wear any sign of hope or affection when I was around her, no matter how much I cared for her as a friend. A friend. I was doing a great disservice to her as her friend by continuing to neck with her. Making out with her had involuntarily messed with her head. I was smarter than this, and though I was a man with needs, I knew that Pops would kick me in the kiester if he knew what we were doing.

I took an anxious breath before I spoke again. "Betty it's not… all in your head. I don't think we should do this anymore."

"Oh," she said, struggling to get a grasp of what I had told her, averting her eyes from me. Her voice was small, sounding like a little child.

"I think it's time for us to move on," I pressed, studying her expression.

She furrowed her brows for a moment, processing what I'd just said. "But I thought things were fine. You said you hadn't met anyone. I'm not with anyone. It's always been fine." She looked to the ground, her eyes searching for something at our feet.

I shook my head again. This was harder than I thought. "It's not fine. I can't do this anymore."

"But we agreed," she protested, her voice cracking.

"We agreed that we'd do this, so long as it was understood that we were just… fooling around. You _know_ that."

"Of course I know that," she scoffed, her head whipping up to look at me. "I—I know what this is." Clearly she was grasping desperately for composure, trying to keep a tough exterior.

"Good," I said, playing off her façade. "Then you'll be okay if we stop, because I can't afford to hurt you like that, Betty."

She snorted as best she could waving her hand in the air as if what I was saying was nonsense. "Who's hurt? I know I'm not." Her face was one of irritation, like she meant to show me that this didn't affect her, but her watery eyes betrayed her.

"Then it's settled." I confirmed.

"Right," she affirmed, nodding her head sternly and with concerted effort to keep herself composed.

I nodded back. "Good." I began to walk away from her when I heard her sniffle. _Damn it._ I turned around and saw that she was holding onto the drainpipe of the house, leaning forward to look at her feet. I checked the area around the house to see if anyone was looking before I closed the distance between us and threw my arms around her small frame.

No, she wasn't the right one, but she'd been my friend and necking partner for a year. Even if I didn't love her enough to want to marry her, I did sincerely care about her. I hated to hurt her, yet I knew it was necessary to end things now. I knew that I would cause more emotional damage to her and possibly to myself if I waited any longer to end things.

She buried her face into my shirt, and I felt her arms hesitate to wrap around me. "Go away," she said, but her body didn't match her command. I felt her tears moisten my shirt, and her arms began to squeeze at my torso.

"See," I sighed, leaning my chin onto her head. "This is exactly why we should stop."

Instantly I felt her let go of me, and wedging her arms between us she pushed me away with her palms flat on my chest. "Just go," she whispered. "I'll be fine."

"Betty—"

"You're making it worse," she complained, turning her back on me. "Just, please… go."

I walked back into the house with the most unsettling feeling. I hated to have to hurt someone. I never did anything I would regret, and I knew that breaking it off with her now would only be something I'd be happy I did later. I just wished that later would come right away, and that I did not have to experience the guilt that came along with it.

As the family gathered all of the food to take over to my brother's house, I prepared my own things to go camping. As I began to pack the back of my truck I heard Elliot walking towards me.

My brother gave me a bear hug. "See you next week," he said.

"Whoa, there big brother," I laughed, pulling away to stand by his side leaving only one of our arms around each other. "What's all this about?"

"Nothin'. Just wanted to hug my little brother goodbye for once."

"All right then," I said, squeezing my arm around him.

Elliot was able to reach his hand up to my head scruff my hair with his hand.

"Hey," I laughed, pulling away. "That's enough of that." I crouched into a boxing position with my fists up. "You're gonna hafta fight me to get close to me again."

"Go ahead and try, Emmett. I beat you up all the time when we were little," he said, mirroring my stance before we took a few play jabs at each other.

"Will you boys quit playing around and help me load all of this food into the car?" Amy asked, carrying the leftover pot roast. We stopped and helped her out, and then I kissed her and the baby on the cheek.

I heard the patter of little feet and saw my niece's bouncy little form running in my direction. I kneeled down with my arms stretched before me. She slammed right into them and I squeezed her tightly as I picked her up and swung her around. "You're not coming Uncle Emmett?" Judy asked.

Her puppy-dog, hazel eyes made me melt. "No sweetheart, I can't," I replied with reluctance.

"Aww, but I wanted to play some more," she huffed, pouting with her little lower lip sticking out.

I kissed her on her cheek. "I'm so sorry, little lady, maybe next time." I was hit with another pang of guilt as I watched her tiny face fall. What was it with me and the ladies today? I decided to amend my last statement. "And when I come over next time we can play jacks. You like jacks right?"

"Yeah!" she exclaimed. "Okay next time! Jacks! Yay!" she exclaimed as she clapped her hands and jumped up and down.

"Yay!" I clapped my own hands after I placed her on her feet. "Now go on to your Mommy and Daddy."

As I climbed into the back of my truck to fix my camping gear, my father walked over to me. "Son, I just wanted to tell you, that I know I give you a hard time with the whole marriage and family thing and all…"

I chuckled. "Yes, sir, I reckon that you do."

"However, young man, I wanted you to know," he said as he leaned into me further, "that I sure am proud of you and your job. You've gotta know that."

"Well, shucks," I grinned at him. "Thanks, Pop."

"Even though I still think you need to grow up just a bit more," he amended, unable to resist. "And I really wouldn't mind if you did find someone to start a life with and providing for a family of your own."

I sighed, rolling my eyes. "Here we go again."

"Hey, it's the truth. You seriously need someone to rein you in, to stop your bar-hopping and drag racing. Otherwise, with your job, I think you're well on your way. If it helps, I think you've got the beginnings to hold your own and support your future. You just need to make the decision to do it," he said patting me in the back. "And I think if she was still around, you'd really have made your mother proud. She'd probably be angry with me for not giving you enough credit."

I recalled my mother's heart-shaped beautiful face, with her ash-blonde hair, light hazel eyes, and dimpled smile. "Really, Pop. Thanks. That means a lot to me."

"No go on with yourself and those little hoodlums… and don't you gettin' into any trouble, ya hear? Just because I'm proud of your job, doesn't mean I'd be proud of _everything _you'd do." He said his last statement through a bit of laughter.

I chortled along with him. "I promise that I won't do nothin' you wont do, Pop. How's about that?"

We all got into our own automobiles and headed on out. I went the other direction. As I drove away, I found myself in deep contemplation of today's discussion. To my horror, I found myself considering my father's advice.

Marriage.

So clearly Betty wasn't the one. I wondered then, if I'd been neglectful about my options. An idea crossed me, and I stopped by the grocery store, grabbing a loaf of bread, a gallon of milk, some eggs, and a dozen apples. I placed them into one bag. The next bag I had filled with some frankfurters and bread, and threw them into the back of my truck, making sure the first bag sat in the cab with me.

I drove to the Whitaker home, seeing Grandpa Whitaker outside, sitting on the porch. I walked up past their white picket fence, following the pathway to the porch with the grocery bag in hand.

"Afternoon, sir," I greeted him, nodding my head and tipping my hat.

"The McCarty boy?" he asked. "Haven't seen you around these parts in quite some time, son. C'mon in. What you got there?"

"Just a little something for the family."

I was greeted by Mrs. Whitaker as I stepped in. " My, my, Stuart and Muriel's son. What brings you here?" she asked.

"Had some doubles with groceries. Turns out Sandra and my dad bought some of the same things, and I didn't want it to spoil," I fibbed with a happy grin. "So, please, take it."

Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Well, thank you."

I offered to help her put the items away as some of their younger grandchildren ran around us. As I finished placing the eggs and the millk in the fridge I heard keys at the door.

The front door swung open, and there stood the prettiest dame in town. "Emmett?"

"Good afternoon, Miss Jeanine," I said.

She looked pleasantly surprised, with a cake in her hand from the bakery in town.

"Isn't it sweet, Jeanine?" her grandmother called from behind me. "Mr. McCarty brought us some groceries."

"Thanks," she mumbled.

Her pretty face was one of shock and of delight. I'd known her for years, back in elementary school. She was a year ahead of me, and I'd always had a crush on her. I finally did get a chance her my junior year, just as she was graduating. We necked all throughout that summer and she was the first girl I'd gotten fresh with. However, when she started college, we broke it off. And then during her first year, her family had lost their fortune and their house. Her mother grew ill and died, and her father committed suicide shortly after. Times were tough for her all around, and she had to withdraw from the university in order to support her four younger brothers and sisters.

She'd tried many small jobs, but none were as lucrative as her current… profession. I stumbled upon her when my friends and I graduated high school and began frequenting speakeasies. I began swinging by every so often at the one she worked, insisting on giving her some money even if she didn't give me any service. I was a friend helping a friend out, so even if we did some necking in my truck or not, I was going to give her a little something to help feed her siblings. I was more fortunate than her in my own financial circumstance, landing a job at the lumberyard during senior year.

"Well, I have to get going," I muttered quickly. "Mr. and Mrs. Whitaker, it was nice to see you both."

I turned to Jeanine, still standing in the hall. Her face, still stunned by my visit, seemed to glow with amusement. "Thanks, Emmett."

"It's the least I could do," I mumbled, giving her a lopsided grin.

She giggled, almost bashful in her demeanor—a stark contrast from last night's confident sexiness at the bar. She checked around as her grandparents left the kitchen and were out of hearing distance. "Emmett," she began, her face turning serious," what are you really doing here?"

I looked at her pretty face, those crystal blue eyes staring back at me. "Can't a friend visit a friend without the third degree?" I chuckled.

She seemed to study my smile for a moment before speaking. "All right. Well… thank you."

"No problem," I said, offering to take the cake from her hand and placing it onto the counter.

"Let me walk you out," Jeanine offered.

She walked beside me to my car. We stopped at the opening of their fence. I turned as she looked at me with a timid grin. "So… what brought you here today?"

"Well I figured … after last night's… event, I'd… repay you somehow. A generous favor for a generous favor." I wiggled my eyebrows at her flirtatiously.

She smiled her lovely smile. "Thanks," she breathed. "That's mighty sweet of you."

"Hey, I was thinkin', maybe… next week we c—"

"Hi there, kids," I heard someone call out, interrupting our conversation. George and Martha O'Reilly breezed by just then, walking their dog. I waved at them, but my hand stopped in my movement as I witnessed something strange and unsettling. When I realized that something about George's facial features bothered me. His face held an intense, almost lewd expression as he stared in our direction. I turned to Jeanine, waving uncomfortably at them. Her posture had stiffened in an awkward stance. That's when I realized why Mr. O'Reilly had such a reaction.

_George O'Reilly? Old and married George?_ Full of disgust, my face turned sour immediately.

Gauging my expression, Jeanine immediately shrank in posture.

I suddenly felt sick to my stomach_. What was I doing here? _Realizing I was about to make a mistake in considering this—considering her.

"You… you were gonna ask me—" but she stopped herself, meeting my revolted gaze, which told her that whatever I was going to ask I'd changed my mind.

"Uh… actually, that was all," I corrected.

"Oh," she breathed, her face falling.

"Well, I should go. Got some campin' to do," I excused myself. I watched as she shifted her weight on each foot, looking away from me. I sighed, angry at myself for hurting yet another girl in one day. I stepped towards her, hugging her and pressing my lips to her temple. "You take good care, ya hear?"

She nodded quietly.

"Have a good evening, Miss Jeanine," I mumbled as I pulled away and walked towards my truck. I saw the blonde dame, my former high school crush, watching me as I drove away, and I shook my head.

I settled on heading in the direction of an area within the camping grounds between Gatlinburg and Pigeon's Ford.

I set up camp, pitching a small tent, and making a small seating area. Gathering some wood, I blazed a small campfire and roasted some hotdogs on skewers, with a pot of Amy's cider brewing on the side. Though I spent a lot of my time with friends, I never minded being alone. I was secure enough with myself to not need company in everything I did.

I chewed over what I had said to Betty as a dog toasted over the fire. I hated to hurt her, even if I knew I had to do it. I had to be honest and I was rather proud of myself for holding my own. I had to cut the ties. There was no way I was going to continue leading her on, if that's what our fooling around did to her. Looking into those hopeful green eyes made it clear to me, and even if I considered her for a second, I knew my heart wasn't in it. If my heart wasn't in it now, it would never be.

After laying the well-done wiener on my plate, I poked another stick through a frankfurter and began to toast that one. I continued to think as I fired up about four more. I figured I'd continue to make some incase I got hungry through the night and into the morning.

My small attempt to gauge what feelings I may have for Jeanine was successful in that it made one thing clear… I cared about her, but I didn't want her like that. I realized maybe my kind gesture to get some groceries for her family could be misconstrued as an attempt to court her, but I was confident that she was smart and knew nothing could ever happen between us. She was a gorgeous girl that had to take drastic measures to support her family. I understood those measures, and knew her well before she had to take them. However, I had to face it. Though I cared that she was happy and well, I had to be honest with myself. I'm sure she knew my thoughts just as well as I did. I could never bring myself to commit to someone who shared her bed with many. It was shallow reasoning, but I was _not_ in love with her, not enough to forgive that huge fact.

I blew my fire out, leaving the pot of cider up there to chill. Grabbing a hotdog stick, I laid back on my blanket looking up at the stars, taking a bite of the frank and contemplating the day. There was absolutely no need to force myself to marry anyone, and looking into my possibilities today, the probability was scarce.

Was I being too picky? There was no spark, not with Betty, not with Jeanine. No one. I refused to settle, and if I was meant to be single in my life then I'd happily accept it. I knew though, that I may never find someone. I could possibly never find someone I felt was good enough to marry, but I was all right with that fact.

I listened to the sounds of small animals and birds in the woods as I thought of the cute redhead and the pretty blonde. I wished them well. They were both terrific broads, ones that would make a man very happy one day. I just wasn't that man. I hoped that they would find their own happiness—happiness with someone who was deserving of them. I honestly didn't think I deserved either. Both should be with a man who could commit to them without a second thought, and who couldn't hurt them like I have. And I believe I'd hurt both today.

I'd lived every day of my life to its fullest. I drank, I smoked, and I experimented with other substances. I went to service on occasion, and I had fun with my friends. I did my best at my job. I experienced as much as I could with a woman without ruining my virtue. Sure, I thought it would be nice to meet a lovely woman and start a family one day, but I was all right if it never happened to me.

I put the fire out, using some of its flame to light the lantern that I kept with me. I looked down to see I had three more hot dogs and a few slices of bread left.

I heard a snarling and grunting, and instantly I was alarmed. I rose to my feet slowly, my whole body in tense alert. I knew that there were bear sightings months ago, but there hadn't been any recently.

_This isn't good._

He emerged from the trees, ever slowly. He was a tall black bear, his body completely massive. He probably saw and smelled the smoke of my fire and the scent of the franks.

_Fuck. This isn't good._

I gulped. My eyes didn't leave him as I walked, taking careful steps backward.

He was hungry, sniffing around, inching towards my camp site. I figured he'd smelled my hot dogs.

"Easy there, fella," I whispered, and he snarled at me with a menacing grizzly sound. I pursed my lips, realizing that he saw me as competition for his food.

He circled around to me from the side and I walked the opposite direction, trying my best to lock him into my gaze.

He leered at me, and all I could do was try to control my fear. I was pretty sure he could smell it on me if I let it get out of control. I knew that he wasn't trying to eat me, but he thought I was a threat against his food source.

He made a movement towards me, and I ducked from him, picking up the lantern. In fact he made a few teasing attempts of swinging his claws and snapping his large jaw at me while I danced and swerved to miss him. He snapped his jaw at me, as if to warn me.

_This is not good at all._

He stood on his hind legs, towering close to a foot taller than me. I gulped, taking a slow step back. I saw him position to lunge at me, and I began to feel apprehensive. I tossed the lamp in his direction, hoping to light him on fire or scare him away with its flame. With one swing of his paw at me, he had gouged at my arm and my hand instantly let go of the lantern.

_So this was it._

I was clearly going to die a single man, a virgin at that. Funny though, I was actually okay with both facts, considering how full I'd lived my life up till this point. My whole life was flashing before me, and I found I didn't regret anything I'd done, including things I hadn't done yet.

I danced to dodge him, realizing my injured arm became numb and useless from his first swipe at me. I felt my heart pounding loudly within my chest, and I looked down to see a thick stream of blood gushing from where he had scratched me. I knew I was smarter than this animal, even though he was stronger and with one swoop of his claw-laden hands, or one snap of his sharp toothed jaws, and I'd be killed. Still, I couldn't go down without defending myself.

And so I fought.

Even if it's the last thing I'll do—even if it was hopeless—I was going to fight this bear.

I was trying to outsmart him, dance around him. For a few moments I evaded his huge arms as they came at me. I'd cut away from him, dodging when his large snout would come near me to snap his mouth at my face.

Without another thought I ran to try to ambush him, pummeling myself at him. However, my chest met his claws as they dug into my gut. I felt a small moment of the sharpest pain, and then, my body went numb. Instantly, I heard his growling in my ear and teeth sink into my neck , shredding me apart. I screamed, and I believe he pulled away to bite and claw at my torso, ripping and tearing at my flesh.

But suddenly, something startled him and he was distracted enough to leave me.

I fell forward on my stomach, sprawled across the dirt. I felt nothing below me but I knew I was injured badly. My breathing was labored, my body temperature dropping. Soon after, my consciousness began to fade, my eyelids growing heavy.

_Yes, this was it._

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I know that Emmett likes grizzly bears, so one would assume it was a grizzly that attacked him. However, in canon, SM never specified what species of bear killed Emmett. I checked on Grizzlies, and they are not prevalent in the Tennessee area. However, Black Bears, who are more prone to human attacks than Grizzlies anyway, are common in that region. Therefore, I chose his killer to be a black bear.

Also, I know that everyone's looking for his sight of Rosalie, but I decided to end it before she shows up. He doesn't see her until she flips him onto his back.

**1930's Vocabulary**

Tomato – an attractive or "ripe" female.

Lounge Lizard – A horny dog

Mind your own potatoes – mind your own business

A small note: I tried to find a slang term appropriate for the time for "breasts." All I could find was "boobies," originating between 1930-1935. Ah… the research I have to do, lol.

**Support V&P in the Bellie Aw****ards!** I have been told that V&P has been nominated in two categories in the Bellies. The two categories are:

**Emmett You Want as Your Brother  
****Best Missing Moment (Canon Award)**

If you'd like to support V&P and second the nominations, please visit the URL on my profile. If not, thats cool, too! thank you!

**Please review and let me know what you think**, **as each review feed my creative soul, and inspires me to keep writing.**

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And if you like the story and want to discuss that or anything further, please come by and play on the Vanity and Patience thread in the forum under Fanfiction/Pre-Twilight. You can find the link on my profile.


	3. 3: Think I've died and gone to heaven

To read Vanity and Patience please go to my profile to find the link.

_Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, and its characters, or plot. The characters, books, and plot are property of Stephenie Meyer. I make no money from writing this. I just love Twilight._

**Warning: Lemons in future chapters. Rated NC-17 for a reason. Violence, adult language, drugs, assault, and sexual content.**

**Chapter Specific Warning: Adult content, but no lemons.**

Big thanks to my beta, Lisa aka cfmom, who totally rocks. This story would not be what it is without her.

**Playlist:**

The Killers – White Demon

Sarah McLaughlin – Angel

Warrant – Heaven

The Calling – Wherever You Will Go

* * *

**Chapter 3: Think I've Died and Gone to Heaven… and Hell**

Death is easy.

It's a part of nature. A part of life.

And as I was certainly fine with life, with the way I'd lived my own life, I could easily accept it.

I stared at the compost of dead leaves and twigs that cushioned the forest floor, just inches from my face. It wasn't long before they became saturated by thick red liquid.

My blood, I faintly recognized. Fuck. Coherency was drifting from me quickly.

I was beginning to feel pain, sharp and piercing, and I grunted. The numbness was wearing off**.**

I fought for a while to keep my eyes open, but then I suddenly realized that there was no use in keeping myself alive. I was here alone, and no one would consider me missing for at least another day. No one would come looking for me; not in time to save me.

Time passed. It felt like days. Weeks even. I knew that it was only hours though because the sun had never come up once. What felt like an eternity, had in fact only been a couple of hours."

The sounds of the forest that usually filtered out of my range of awareness were now beginning to become distinct. Crickets were chirping. Little animals were scurrying places. I heard an owl nearby.

I felt the end coming near, the pain of my injuries becoming a dull ache.

No one was coming for me. I was going to die. The fact was more obvious now than it was moments ago, and it hit me like a freight train.

Within the rhythm of the forest sounds in the calm night, I began to think about the people in my life.

Oscar. Daniel. My best friends since the first grade. They were like my hands. I couldn't have gone through school or work without them. I hoped that they knew that.

I remembered Betty. I remembered Jeanine. Damn it. I was going to die a virgin. Well fuck me upside down.

Heh. Maybe I could regret that one last thing before death.

I laughed, but a gurgling cough came out instead. Followed by a sharp pain. Ouch

My family. Oh, God, my family.

My father, my role model. He'd taken good care of us, even after the loss of my mother. Even though I knew Nana had played a big hand in it, there was no doubt that he'd never let us go without food on the table and a roof over our heads. I know he'd said I made him proud, as did my work in the lumber yard. That made me feel good. I didn't think it was enough, though. Part of me was sorry I wouldn't get a chance to make it enough. Be the better son for him. Oh, Pop. I'm so sorry.

Elliot. My brother had been my friend since birth, my one and only sibling. I'd looked up to him before I started walking. It was hard to imagine never seeing him again, but I was more worried about what my death would do to him. And Amy. It was hard to think of my brother without his better half. Well she was easily the sister I never had. They were the kind of marriage I would've liked to have, if I were to ever be married. Their love was just that great.

Little Judy. My Judy Pudy. Ringlets and laughter. I'm sorry, Judy-Pudy, for not keeping my promise, and playing jacks with you next week. And Baby Billy. Bouncing baby Billy. How it pained me to realize I wouldn't see them grow up.

And then there was Sandra, my stepmom. I'd miss even Sandra. I guess.

I stayed still, and the pain was fading, as I hoped it would. But the dull ache, becoming duller and duller, worried me. Numbness was near again, and I knew it was because my body was shutting down.

Slowly, I let my lids fall, closing my eyes to the inevitable. Behind the curtain of my lids, it was black, and I braced myself to see the fires of hell, or maybe the working, pleading souls of purgatory. There was no way my life would bring me to heaven, unless He truly was a forgiving God. All I found, however, was blackness as my eyes scanned the space in front of me.

After a few long moments, my eyes fixed on a light glow at the end of the space. It was small and faint at first, but grew brighter and brighter, and in it appeared two graceful figures. They were silhouetted by the light, two women walking toward me. Their arms were stretched out.

Somewhere in my mind, I knew who they were.

I smiled brightly, my eyes swelling with tears. My heart fluttered within my mind, feeling heavy. I never thought I'd see them again.

It was my mother, Muriel, and my Nana, Adeline.

"I've been waiting for a long time for this," a gentle voice murmured. I knew that voice anywhere.

I chuckled like a child as soon as I heard it, the tears pouring over my cheeks.

It was the voice of my childhood, the voice that comforted me when I needed it. It was the voice of my mother, the sound of sweet, maternal love. I felt my physical body smile in conjunction with the smile I gave in my mind. My hand reached out to hers.

"Come with us dear," Nana said. "We've been waiting for you."

_Nana, there's so much I want to tell you._

I couldn't see their faces; their bodies were still black figures as the light that illuminated the space behind them. But I'd missed them so much.

I reached out my hand, wanting to take my Nana's arm. My mother's hand was stretched out to me, and I became confused. Which one should I take first? It had been years since I'd seen my mother, and I wanted desperately to touch her fingers once again.

Wait. I'm so fucking stupid. I had two hands.

I extended both hands in front of me, one reaching out to either of them.

Shit. I said "fucking." That's not a good choice here, I would guess. At least I didn't say it out loud. I was praying the big guy couldn't read my thoughts. I'd have more explaining to do since I hadn't attended Mass in a good five years.

Suddenly a snarl came from somewhere, echoing into the black space around us. I looked around the dark space and there was nothing—nothing that would make such a sound. When I turned back to the figures before me with a smile on my face, it instantly faded from my lips. The light was fading, and the figures disappeared.

My heart broke into a million pieces, and I was hit in the stomach with a pang of loneliness. "No," I whispered, my arms stretched out before me, searching for my Nana, and for my mother.

My eyes flew open, and I saw leaves and twigs again, sticky with my blood. Moisture was beading on my forehead, and some of it poured onto my lips. I tasted my sweat, mixed with tears.

A hiss, much like the snarl in my dream, rang in my ears again.

Someone was here. I stirred, but it was the worst idea. I began to gasp; I hurt all over. Here I thought I was going numb; I was just going numb in _that position_.

I was suddenly flipped onto my back, though my consciousness was slipping from me fast. I squirmed as I felt something as cold and hard as stone take hold of me. How strange, I thought, that they felt like hands and arms, but were wintery to the touch. I continued to moan and groan through the pain, though much of my body had gone numb, paralyzed by my injuries.

Fucking bear.

I felt the artic hands on my arms again. Even as I was sure at that moment that I lay dying, my mind couldn't help its curiosity. I made the effort through my weakened stupor to open my eyes.

_Holy. Shit_.

My lungs stopped when I took a glimpse of whom or what had found me.

It was a lady—flesh as white as the snowy Tennessee mountain caps in January, long golden hair as shiny as corn silk in a pretty wave. She was looking at my body, my injuries.

What the hell was a dame like that doing here? Maybe I was hallucinating. I figured it might be right to test that theory. I needed to speak, to try and get her attention.

Something.

"H-help m-me," was all I could manage to wheeze out of my fading breath. Pitiful. But it was the first thing that came to me, because suddenly, I wasn't ready for heaven, or hell. I wanted to stay where this woman was, wherever she was from.

Her face switched to me suddenly, and I swore my heart froze as my eyes caught hers. Her eyes were held in a dark frame of the longest, fullest lashes, and her irises were like melted butterscotch. The sight of her beautiful gaze caused a strange feeling to crash through me, which I couldn't understand after all the distress my body was going through physically. It was an aching of my insides, and when I blinked for a millisecond it hurt for that short moment that I wasn't looking at her.

Her expression exchanged instantly, menacing and determined at first, but softening the longer that she looked at me.

Soft, tender, and absolutely stunning.

Was she an angel sent from heaven?

Had God come for me?

_Of course he has_, I thought to myself, the memory of the bear's claws gouging into my stomach. _No cat could survive what I just endured_.

I felt tips of her icy fingers on my face, and suddenly she began to weep.

I turned what I could of my head to take a look at our surroundings. Surely this broad couldn't be alone in the forest.

Was she lost? Was that why she cried?

I tried to speak, but all that came out was another strangled moan of pain. I wanted to ask her questions. I wanted to know why she was here. And after she told me why, I wanted to ask her if she'd be mine.

I strained to keep my eyelids open, determined to study her more as she gathered what remained of my body. Her face was so perfect that the word _beautiful_ wouldn't even begin to describe the degree of allure this woman had. Her features were otherworldly.

Surely, she was an angel.

I let out a choked groan as she handled me. My injuries began to throb again as soon as she moved me. Yet I was still far from caring. I'd gladly take the pain. She was just too beautiful.

And then, in a flash, she had lifted me, and propelled herself in a direction so fast that I felt like we were flying.

Was she going to take me away to heaven now?

I forced consciousness upon myself as we were in flight, refusing to shut my eyes against the sight of her. I felt the wind whipping at my face. It was making it hard for me to keep my eyes open.

My body was shutting down, but my mind was still working—working hard to concentrate on the angel—on her face. I struggled as I made myself memorize the perfect angles of her godlike features.

Her body felt like ice underneath her clothes. It was a relief to my withering, burning flesh and wounds. I pressed my face, and what I could of my mangled body, against her chest.

It felt so damn good. I wondered if briefly heaven was the exact opposite of hell—a wintery cold versus a fire pit. It would explain the temperature of her body.

It gave relief to the pain of my injuries. I welcomed the cold from her. It made me sigh happily.

Sighing had me inhale her sweet perfume. Her scent was so sugary and floral, like roses. Exactly like roses. However, something else was mixed in with that rosy scent. It was something delicious, and saccharine—like cookies, and cake.

I inhaled again. Ah, that's it. Vanilla. She smelled like an odd combination of vanilla and roses, and it attracted me to no end. I inhaled deeply, taking huge breaths of her essence into my system.

As I inhaled, the side of my face felt the contours of her body, her chest. Even in all my preparation for death, I could feel her bosom against my cheek. It was perfect and round, but hard as stone. And… a small bump? Wait. Was that… a _nipple_? I mused for an instant if angels were able to have sex in the Kingdom of God.

I deliberated on that thought, recollecting my prayers.

Our Father. Hail Mary. _Virgin_ Mary.

Sex in heaven? Not likely.

I chuckled to myself, but it came out a strangled cough. _Ouch._ I moaned. Pain in my chest. Bad idea.

"Just hold on," the angel whispered, her voice sounding like chimes in the wind. "Please, just hold on."

I was amused by that. She must've thought I was struggling, the moan induced because I was dying. Well, maybe that was true, but my mind was still so much alive._Man_, did she _not_ know what I was thinking.

I rubbed my head against her breast again, the peak of her nipple against my cheek.

Sex not likely. What a shame.

I stopped myself from lingering on that thought any longer. That would've earned a swat from Nana. She'd send me straight to the confessional at Saint Patrick's. Father McAfee would've definitely given me penance that would keep me up all night. Twenty-five Our Fathers. Fifty Hail Mary's. Eighty rounds of the Holy Rosary.

I did as the angel asked, and I held on. I concentrated on her face instead. It wasn't that hard. Full pouty lips, and cheekbones so high they pointed to heaven, where she came from. She glanced down at me just as I gazed at her, and I swore that my injured stomach flipped. She had strange golden eyes and lashes from here to Chattanooga. I was sure those eyes would haunt me for as long as I lived, however short that may be now.

A strange feeling came over me. I think I was in love. She was that beautiful. I'd chased many a skirt in my day, but this broad was a tomato carved out of flawlessness. Pure perfection. I knew that wherever she was taking me, if I could walk away from it in my free will, I wouldn't leave. In fact, I'd gladly follow her anywhere.

I felt my body weakening. I noticed my breathing had become labored since she'd found me.

As she slowed I could no longer hold my eyes open. I couldn't ignore that failing completely. She needed to hurry and save my soul.

She stopped, and I could hear her arguing with a male voice.

He sounded a little upset. Too upset. In fact, he needed to relax. One thing was for sure: he wasn't happy that she had brought me. He was growling every word. Was he God? Had the angel made a mistake? Was I not supposed to go to heaven? I never thought of God as angry.

I was growing incoherent, losing my consciousness. I couldn't understand what they were talking about. I could only see black, zoning in and out.

Another set of voices came. A woman, and another man, but I thought it was strange, because I never actually heard them coming. Maybe I was blacking out that much that I'd missed it.

I felt a shift, like I was handed over to someone else, and then, I was flying again, but only for a moment.

I was drifting in and out of consciousness.

When I regained a moment of awareness, I was very confused. There was no longer a night sky above me, but rather the wooden beams of a ceiling. I was no longer being carried, but was lying prone on a hard, flat surface. I was cold, but I didn't know if that was from blood loss, or the sad, tattered remains of my clothing unable to keep the winter chill from my body. I felt naked. Had someone taken off my clothes? This can't be heaven.

I opened my eyes, wincing at the light. There was a light in the ceiling, and a figure of a man in front of it, looking down at me. A silhouette, or whatever you call it.

Was it God?

It had to be. God was a man. Or at least, that what I was told all my life. The angel had brought me to God.

He switched on another light… and I was shocked at what I saw.

God was… blonde.

And… pretty.

God was pretty.

And shaven.

Cleanly shaven.

In a long, white coat. Like a doctor.

Well that was… unexpected. I'd always assumed he'd look like an older version of Jesus, the bearded man with the dark hair, like images my Nana used to pray to at home.

God… blonde, pretty, and shaven. In a doctor's threads.

Huh? Was I lucid?

Figures. Our creator. Father of heaven and earth. Naturally, he'd be more beautiful than any of us. The doctor part confused me, however.

I figured I was delusional. I began to shiver, my body temperature dropping. I knew that my injuries had caused me to lose too much blood to survive.

I heard God going back and forth with the angel. Something about changing someone.

Were they talking about _me_? Was I about to become an angel, now, too?

I thought of the stone hard breasts on the angel. That dish of an angel.

Would I be cold as snow, too? Would my jewels be rock stiff as well?

In the room, I was vaguely aware of the presence of the other woman and the tense male in need of relaxing. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate as time went on. It was getting colder, and I felt my body going completely numb. I could almost sense my heart beating slower. Everything went black again before I felt a gust of wind.

"Son, what is your name?" God asked me.

His soothing, deeper chimed voice brought me back to consciousness. "Eh-eh mmett," I could barely breathe. It was pathetic, but my chest hurt and my lungs could barely find the oxygen in the air.

God took my hand and smiled.

Hah. There's a statement I'd never thought I'd make.

God then said, "Well, Emmett, I'm Carlisle. I'm here to save you."

Wait. God's name was Carlisle?

He then leaned in slightly and whispered, "This will hurt more than what you're feeling now, but it will soon be over."

Wait… _what?_

He leaned in like he was going to whisper to me—tell me a secret. I leaned in to listen. I'd do anything God wanted me to, pretty blonde doctor or not. "Be reborn, my son," he breathed.

Suddenly, something was tearing at my throat.

Like a blade coated in acid.

Fire.

Burning, sweltering, scorching fire.

It was spreading from my neck, seeping through my torso, travelling to my limbs. It took over my brain.

I writhed in agony. Every part of me was ablaze.

I heard the screaming before I realized it was coming from me.

I was roasting. Baking. Broiling.

I think I was thrashing against the table. I wasn't sure. I couldn't concentrate on anything but the fire.

"On f-fire, I'm …burning!" The screaming again. Was that really me?

Through the pain, I heard the angel crying again. I tried to concentrate on that instead. But it was hard. I know I continued writhing, grunting, groaning.

Screaming.

The. Fire. Would. Not. Stop.

Was I in hell? Or was this Purgatory?

One thing was for sure. This was _not_ heaven.

A small part of me was still able to think through the inferno. I wasn't surprised by this. I'd had too much fun in my day for me not to burn in hell. I knew I deserved this. Why, then, did the angel cry?

Wind again, brushing on my side, and I felt someone beside me. "I—" I heard voice of soft bells ring. The angel. So, she hadn't left me. A strange sense of relief took over me, despite the burning. "I'm Rosalie. I found you. I'm so sorry. I know that it hurts, but please, try and bare it, just for now. It'll all be over soon, I promise."

She knew this would hurt me? What kind of angel was she? It would be _over_? The pain would_stop_? When was _this_? Over couldn't come soon enough for me.

Holy _shit_, this _was_ hell.

And maybe "Carlisle" wasn't God. Maybe "Carlisle" was _Satan_, only here in hell, Satan sounded like "Carlisle."

Oh, the fire! Fuck, it felt like I was being torched from the inside out. I squeezed my eyes shut, and I felt moisture pouring out of them. I was crying. Like a sissy. But this was the greatest pain I'd ever felt, and I realized I could give two shits that I was being a sissy.

Her cold fingers took my hand, pulling it out of the balled fist I was making in pain. She placed her fingers into my hand, our palms touching each other, and I clutched onto her hand like my life depended on it. The wintery feeling was welcome, but it didn't stop the fire. I groaned when I found that it didn't help.

"I'm here for you," she whispered gently, seeming to struggle against her sobs.

I opened my eyes at that moment, the gorgeous angel staring back at me. Even upset, she looked beautiful. She didn't shed any tears, but her breathing and contorted expression still told me she was weeping. Maybe they didn't cry in heaven. Or maybe God didn't want it to rain on Earth, so she wasn't allowed to cry tears. That's what my Nana told me about the rain—angels' tears. Whatever the reason, it didn't matter. I had the angel here with me again.

At that moment, I was thankful to have her, the angel, by my side, and I didn't care that she might have been an angel from hell. If this was hell, I'd happily take it, as long as she was with me.

The burn. So much fire. _Put it out, God damn it!_

I thought to ask her to kill me, but then I'd never see her again. I couldn't fathom that.

"Sweetie, I'm here for you," she breathed, and I felt cold, marble lips take a swipe against my forehead.

I felt another set of icy fingers brush the top of my head, and through my writhing and flinching, I actually shivered. I wanted her to touch me like that again, but I couldn't speak anymore… the pain held me stronger than the ability to retain control of my lips, or anything else.

"My Emmett," the angel breathed, and I shivered again. My name said in wind chimes. I didn't want to die if I couldn't hear that again. "I'm right here."

Fire.

It wasn't like a camp fire with its weak orange-red flames.

It was like super hot blue flames—the kind you'd find off a special torch or gas stove or something. It raked over my body like I was some dry forest in the west. It held me hostage.

Holy fuck did it continue to burn.

I held ice in my hand the whole time. It was oddly comforting, the angel's hand. I'd missed her name in all my screaming and pain. My screaming had gone down, and I gritted my teeth as I bore the smoldering in my veins.

I wondered if the burn had reached her, because I could almost swear that the temperature of her hand was getting warmer as days past. It was strange that she never went to bed, or excused herself to the ladies' room.

Not that I minded. In fact, I didn't want her to leave my side. Even burning on that table, I was happy. Happy that she was with me, that I knew she was there.

The angel and God, or Carlisle, told me what I was becoming, but I didn't believe them.

A vampire?

I'd read Bram Stoker's Dracula many times. I'd seen some film adaptations of it, as well as the old Nosferatu movie from the 1920's. They scared me as a kid. Entertained me as a man.

But I always knew one thing. They didn't exist. They just didn't.

But then I remembered the blades that cut me, slicing through my neck. Razor sharp wet metal, laced with burning acid. But the doctor leaned in like he was going to whisper to me.

Was that the doctor's _teeth?_

Oh, shit.

Carlisle wasn't God.

And the angel, the dear sweet angel, wasn't really an angel.

Maybe they were telling the truth.

I pondered the concept of being a vampire, something I could do to keep my mind off the embers that ate away at my flesh. That would be kinda neat. I could be all right with that.

Flames on my body continued to spread, and whatever I was becoming didn't matter at that moment. I moaned again, the burn getting to me. I had to get through hell first.

* * *

Fire.

Fire holding me hostage. Burning me to a crisp. I'd break apart and be a fragile, brittle, black lump of nothing when this was done. That's what it felt like I was going to become. Not some cold, rock hard, pretty thing like they were.

The angel whispered to me, told me things in a soothing voice. Us hunting together. Her teaching me their ways. Promising the fire would be out soon.

I groaned in misery when she would say things like that_. When_ was soon?

Hoping "soon" would come sooner, I tried my best to listen to what they were telling me, but I refused to move or speak. It felt like if I stirred, if I twitched, the fire would blaze hotter. I didn't dare try to aggravate the flames.

She and the doctor talked something about vampire laws, the most important being discretion.

Wow. They were really serious about this vampire shit. I guess they really weren't pulling my chain.

There was a reason why people didn't know they existed, apparently. They lived in secret among us. Sneaky little bastards.

They told me more—something unique about them— their family respecting the life of humans. They hunted animals instead. _Only_ animals.

Well, that's not very vampire-like. Not so Dracula to me.

Shouldn't they be luring females, with a harem of topless broads with fangs nearby? The victims come back as the same creatures they were?

I paused for a moment. Do _I_ get fangs, too?

And what good would it be to have fangs if you couldn't hunt people? Wasn't that the thrill in being a vampire? I had so many questions.

I stopped myself short of that thought. Why didn't it repel me—this idea of hunting people? The very species I was, maybe _still_was. Why didn't the idea of being a vampire repel me at all? Hell, if the kind doctor could do it, so could I. If the angel could be a fanged monster, I could too.

But then, as I wondered about it, I grasped a certain undeniable fact. As my eyes were shut, I distinctly remembered the angel's breathtaking features, the face that had me falling all over myself, even in near death. Her wide eyes that were the color of the sun, and her lashes so long they extended to Chattanooga. I'd stare at those eyes forever. This immortal concept was getting better and better.

Yep, still an undeniable fact.

The angel.

I'd go with her anywhere.

Even to hell.

Even if I was a scary monster. Dracula. Frankenstien. The Phantom of the Opera.

It didn't matter.

She had me.

I was hers.

That wouldn't change when I awoke from hell.

Or would it?

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**Author End Notes:**

Again, to read Vanity and Patience please visit my profile for the link.

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	4. Chapter 4: Hold up I'm a WHAT?

To read Vanity and Patience please go to:  
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_Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, and its characters, or plot. The characters, books, and plot are property of Stephenie Meyer. I make no money from writing this. I just love Twilight._

**Warning: Lemons in future chapters. Rated NC-17 for a reason. Violence, adult language, drugs, assault, and sexual content.**

**Chapter Specific Warning: Adult content, but no lemons. **

Big thanks to my beta, Lisa aka cfmom, who totally rocks. This story would not be what it is without her.

Please enjoy Emmett's POV of Chapters 5 and 6 of Vanity and Patience.

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**Chapter 4: Hold up… I'm a **_**what?**_

_**

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**_

I didn't notice the moment the burn stopped. I had become so used to lying still, in the hope that I would grow numb to the fiery sensation that I missed the last of the embers that were blazing at my toes and fingertips.

My thoughts were… blank.

A clean slate. Very strange.

My eyes fluttered open slowly.

I was completely floored.

Shades of colors I'd never seen before were present in the rays of sunlight that beamed through the windows. I could see dust particles floating in the air, all new to me. I could distinguish every tiny crack in the walls of this otherwise perfect structure.

Still on my back, I took my first breath. I stiffened immediately. Burning! The fire had returned. Was I not done burning in hell? A strange sound came from my throat. It sounded like a bear. Was I growling?

With one swift movement, I threw all of my weight into my bottom half. I landed with my feet on the tile floor, the rest of my upper body following. Oh, shit! That was crazy neat. I'd always been lithe, but never lo this degree. Did I really do that?

I snarled as I took another deep breath, the fire blazing in my throat again. Snarling seemed to be automatic.

I could hear strange sounds from nearby. There was a stream just a few yards from here, a bird flying by. With the strangest clarity, I could hear the highway a couple miles away. It was wild.

In the next instant, I did a backwards somersault and landed with my feet on the table, leaving slight indentations in its surface. Holy shit, I _was _doing that.

I surveyed the whole room, my face frozen in a scowl.

I tensed immediately as I saw four figures before me.

_Enemies_, a small part of my brain thought.

Where did that voice come from? But it sounded so sure, so I figured it was right. _They were enemies._

_My enemies._

Two of them advanced towards me.

A snarl rose from my throat before I could figure out what was happening. I tensed automatically.

My mind was on red alert. _Enemy approaching. Watch your back._

"Emmett, son," the enemy began, waving a surrendering hand. "I'm not sure how much you were able to retain during your change. I'm Carlisle. This is my family: Edward, Esme, and Rosalie."

I blinked my eyes as I followed his hand gesture. His soothing tone brought back a little clarity, and my defensive enemy alert lifted.

For the first time, I saw a fair-haired man in a white coat, with a copper-haired guy in front of him. The redhead looked like he was in serious need of a comb.

I could faintly remember the doctor. Wasn't he the cat I thought was God? I wasn't too sure. I felt like my mind had reset itself.

Two women stood behind them. One had hair like toffee; the kind of sauce that my mom would make and pour over cake. The other one had hair as bright as the sun. My eyes lingered on the fair-haired one.

She grinned at me. At the sight of such a greeting, I felt something stir within my chest, but the burn in my throat overpowered any feeling I was experiencing at the moment. I found it a little strange, coming from an enemy. Did I know her?

Most likely not. I quickly averted my sight and let my eyes sweep the room again, in case I had missed something. I took another scorching breath, grunting slightly as my lungs felt like they were on fire.

Things were certainly different from anything I'd known before. Funny thing was that I couldn't seem to remember shit from before to have anything to compare it with. I did remember a man and a young woman talking to me about vampires and hunting animals. At least I think I did. Had it been a dream, or rather a nightmare?

Was that the burn I felt in my air passage? Were they speaking the truth?

"He's confused," the young man explained to the others over his shoulder. He turned back to me. "Yes, you are now a vampire," he confirmed. "And we are vampires as well. We do not want to harm you." He took a step towards me. "Rosalie found you, and Carlisle turned you."

I groaned in response before I snorted. I was befuddled and a bit stunned at what the boy was saying.

"A vampire?" I asked, finally speaking. Was that my voice? My expression became clouded with a moment of disbelief and confusion. My eyes grew wide, startled at the new sound. I cleared my throat, thinking maybe that would take it back to normal.

I was able to analyze this in fractions of a second: my voice, the sounds I could hear, my crazy vision that had me seeing things I'd never seen before, and the raging inferno that smoldered in my windpipes.

"Yes," the man called Carlisle confirmed, as I rubbed my throat, still a bit stunned. "You are now one of us."

Well, fuck me sideways.

"We're here to help you, remember?" Edward reminded me.

What the hell? I took a step back, scrutinizing the redhead. "How can I be so sure?" My voice was dubious. I'm sure my face was too.

"Rosalie and Carlisle, they told you our story," Edward continued. "I know you remember."

My temper flared. "How are you reading my mind?" I growled. This young copper headed cat was the most annoying thing ever. Stupid know-it-all. My lips curled, baring my teeth. My body didn't want to trust him, even though my mind hadn't yet fully decided.

He recoiled, taking a step back. "It's an enhanced ability," he said slowly.

I took two steps back as the man named Carlisle made a step towards me. A grizzly snarl began to rise from my chest.

"Be careful, Carlisle," the know-it-all warned softly.

Carlisle held his hand up to know-it-all as if to hush him, before turning back to me. "Son, I know you're concerned. We're not here to harm you. We're here to help you."

Enemy too close. I took a defensive stance, backtracking and crouching. I tensed to spring.

Carlisle moved his hands slowly in front of himself, palms forward facing me. "Won't you listen to what we have to say? If you'd like for me to explain this to you again, I'd be glad to."

_Enemies have you cornered._ I took note of their strange yellow eyes again.

"There's no need to be alarmed, son. We're not here to fight you. I promise," he continued, in a mild tone. He pointed to himself. "Again, I'm Carlisle. This is my family. I turned you in the hopes that you'd join us. Please, give us a moment to explain what we are and what we stand for."

His tone was calm and comforting, seeming to break through the alert that flashed through my system. Something in his eyes held an unmistakable kindness that was easy to trust. Slowly, my body straightened up, standing at ease.

"Thank you, Emmett. I'll take this opportunity to help you meet my family. Once again, you've met Edward, my adopted son. That over there is my wife, Esme, and my daughter, Rosalie," Carlisle introduced, his hand pointing in their direction.

My eyes switched to his wife and then to his daughter as my line of sight followed Carlisle's gesture. The daughter. Rosalie, was it? Something about her was familiar, but the blazing in my esophagus clouded whatever part of my brain was tied to her face. I had to wonder again, _did_ I know her?

Carlisle's words took my attention, my eyes switching back to him when he spoke. "We are all vampires who live together here in peace. Though it is our nature to feed on humans, we have strived on being as ethical as we can, and do not prey on innocent souls. Our family is different from others of our kind in that we choose to feed on the blood of animals."

Blood.

The thought made my throat go up in flames. I clenched my fist and dropped my chin. Ugh, my throat _burned. Why is it doing that?_

"Your throat burns because you need to feed," the boy named Edward answered, automatically.

My lips pulled back behind my teeth as a hiss escaped from my mouth. "Wow, you're really annoying," I snarled at the know-it-all, glowering at him.

"Emmett, son," Carlisle chimed in. "Maybe you would like to go hunting? The thirst is probably becoming rather uncomfortable."

At the mention of hunting, my body grew rigid, cupping my throat with my hand as I gulped some thick substance that pooled in my mouth. Realizing Carlisle might be right, I nodded in agreement.

And so we hunted.

I followed the know-it-all, who led the way. I imitated his speed. I ran quick, dodging trees and other barriers with no problem. I didn't hesitate to make giant leaps over rivers and streams like he did. If he could do it, I could do it better.

I could feel the others trailing behind me. We dashed west, but I had no idea where we were. It all looked the same to me at the moment.

The know-it-all stopped short. He spun around to face me, several feet from where I stood. Smart guy.

"Emmett, now concentrate," Edward guided me. "What do you hear?"

I listened for the smallest instant, analyzing the sounds around us. I shifted upon layers of noises. I heard the steady rhythm of something that caught my attention. Hearts? And chewing. Six hearts beating, and the same number of mouths chewing on grass. A grunt rose from my chest. "Heartbeats, six of them," I breathed. "And chewing…on…grass or something. The sound is coming from Just south of those trees." I nodded my head towards their direction. "What are they?"

A breeze blew by, followed by a scent that turned up the flames in my throat by half. My nose wrinkled. It was sweet in an… earthy sort of way. Not what I expected.

I heard a giggle, and my head popped up. Was the young blonde dame laughing at me? I glowered at her, and her giggling halted.

"Bison," Know-it-all, a name I decided to call him internally, answered, distracting me.

I turned to him, picturing myself shooting through those trees like a bullet from a rifle and grabbing them all. I'd imagined taking them by their heads and snapping them at their necks. Only just after that, I'd tear into them with my teeth. All six of them.

"You've got the right idea, but I'll show you quickly just to make sure," he encouraged. "You can follow behind."

I sprinted to follow Know-it-all, already snaking his way out to the meadow where the herd of bison fed. I followed close behind him. I caught him sneak a quick glance at the doctor before running, the doctor nodding only a fraction, following behind me.

Know-it-all took a quick leap into the air, diving straight onto a bison too quickly for it to react, simply falling to straddle it, and snap its neck within seconds. I observed as he sunk his teeth into the back of the animal as he did so before beginning to slurp its blood.

Mmm.

I drew in the smell of that blood with my last inhale before I launched myself in the air with no hesitation. I took down the rest of the herd in the same time that Edward took down the one. I claimed two of the mammals.

My teeth found the flesh of the first warm body through its course fur, and almost immediately, thick crimson liquid gushed out. I sucked on it, draining the limp thing. It wasn't the best, I would guess, but it certainly did the job of washing away my burn. It was very… earthy, like the smell. Woodsy, grassy. When I was done, the burn was still there, so I took the second body without hesitating.

"How is it?" the doctor asked, curious.

I pulled away only enough to answer his question. "Like eating a garden salad." I couldn't hide a small wince. I answered like I would always answer—honestly. I continued to drain it dry, despite the fact that it had the appeal of broccoli to me—a meat and potatoes kind of guy. Rabbit food. I couldn't complain too much. _Anything _was better than the fiery hell in my gullet. I even went for a third, leaving the other two for the rest of the family. Yep, I was greedy, but the scorching fire just beneath my tonsils kept me from caring.

The doctor and his family helped me discard the carcasses "properly," explaining that cleanliness lends itself to discretion. I did as they said. Who was I to question these seasoned folk?

We made for a sprint home when I heard Know-it-all stop dead in his tracks.

"_Fuck_…Damn it all to hell," he exclaimed, exasperated.

"Hey, watch your mouth, young man," the doctor's wife reprimanded him.

"I'm sorry. It's just… argh… I should have been more careful. I forgot to survey the land!" His face was tense, his hands in fists, tension rolling through him.

I stared at the redhead for a moment, completely lost. I suddenly remembered the male voice who fought with the angel about taking me home. The one who needed to calm down, and I realized this was the same guy. This guy certainly needed to relax.

Suddenly, an insanely delicious scent came swooshing around in from the east, and all reason floated away.

The faint relief from my earlier hunt was no longer valid against the burn that consumed my air passage now. I could hear it—two sets of two-legged mammals—two sets of steady heartbeats. I felt liquid pool just beneath my tongue.

I drew the scent in, filling my lungs with its appetizing, aroma. Not even seconds had past, and my mind was already flooding with plots.

I was gone before anyone could stop me.

Before I knew it, I was pushing myself forward, the balls of my feet digging into the forest floor and driving me towards the source of the best smell in the world.

I knew what my prey was before anyone could tell me what I was after.

Humans.

I felt the enemies come after me to try to stop me, but they were no match. I couldn't let my opponents reach my prey before I did, nor could I let them stop me from getting to the two unfortunate hikers. I faintly recognized the doctor or Know-it-all when they came after me, but they were easily rid of with the smallest shove or flick of an elbow.

_Enemies,_ the inner voice told me again.

Despite their attempts to distract me, I kept my mind at the task at hand.

With my adversaries out of the way, I propelled myself towards the humans, every part of my body working to get to these mortals within my grasp. They were history; my brain new it. My body knew it. Down to the marrow in my bones, I knew it. The way I came at these humans so stealthy in nature had me reeling.

No one could stop me.

No one.

It was almost effortless when I lurched at them with unbelievable precision, and I'd never felt more alive in my life. I took the first by his head, my other hand on his shoulder, breaking his neck in fractions of a second.

I could sense the fear in the second one, smelling it in his scent, as he registered for just a moment what was happening. But I'd caught and killed him with my bare hands myself before he could even think of running away. I could hear the snaps of their neck, and massive amounts of thick liquid accumulated beneath my tongue. I couldn't believe my strength, and I wasn't about to complain about it.

I wouldn't complain about anything after the tantalizing aroma of these juicy humans had completely taken me.

I sunk my teeth into each of their jugulars one by one, greedily sucking all the dense, luscious warmth. I felt it fill my belly, consuming my sanity just as I was consuming the liquid's host.

Well, damn.

Thick. Salty. Warm. Deliciousness.

My eyes rolled back at all the pleasure it gave me, and very faint human memories , mere pictures, came to mind as I sated myelf of the one pleasure my new nature lusted for.

I'd known the rush from a hit from marijuana.

I'd found the pleasure in a nice glass of whiskey.

I'd reveled the ecstasy as I released into a girl's mouth a few times in my life.

But nothing was ever as sweet as this. Nothing was ever this sinful.

And I knew at that moment, as the tepid liquid coated my throat, that _nothing_ would ever be the same to me again.

I hadn't even finished draining off the first when I grabbed the second one—so eager to have more.

I was immediately incensed when I'd hit the last of the blood. I dropped the cold body to the ground.

Wiping my mouth that was still dripping with the man's blood, I realized I had an audience. I licked the remains of the precious crimson liquid off my hand. I couldn't help moaning at the taste. It was just too lip smacking delicious. I licked the last of the remaining drops off the side of my palm before looking up at the four horrified immortals incredulously. "That was so fucking… _good_," I growled, the lust for blood pouring out of my voice.

They stared back at me with large eyes and open mouths.

I gestured towards the corpses, stalking angrily towards the coven. I could remember what they'd said… an animal only lifestyle.

Yeah. I don't think so.

"I'm supposed to give this up?" I groaned, an underlying sarcasm underneath my tone. "Isn't this what we're _meant_ to do?"

"It doesn't have to be that way, Emmett," the doctor answered, all of them taking steps back.

_They _should _step back_, the voice from before said to me. _They're enemies. They want to stand in the way of you and your prey._

I grimaced at the doctor, the inner voice sounding reasonable to me. Its reasoning must be valid. These people didn't want me to find my pleasure. They didn't want me near human blood. "You deny everything we are as vampires." My voice was curt. It wasn't a question—I was justifying his thoughts.

The misguided doctor sighed, hopelessness in his body language. "It is possible for a vampire to live peacefully among humans. If you feed on animals we are more likely to establish a bond with each other based on love. We are able to live amongst people and our kind in peace."

I huffed in complete doubt. Definitely misguided. "I don't think I can stay," I snorted. "If hunting humans is what we're built for, why deny it? Why follow you?"

"It's a state of mind, Emmett. They are human beings, with families and homes. You were once one just a few days ago. All of us were. We keep that in mind, and when we draw from that concept, we can have regard for human life."

My face changed as my eyes scanned all of their faces, and I was sure all of my doubt surfaced in that one look to all four of them. They were crazy. Completely mad.

"Will you stay with us? Stay to try, at least? If you cannot stand it, we won't make you stay any longer than you want to. You may go when you wish. Our home is open to you." he insisted, but his eyes still looked hopeless. Yeah. He knew he was nowhere close to having a chance in hell of convincing me of shit.

I fought a smug face.

"What is your choice, son?"

I thought about the family, the good nature of both the doctor and his wife. I felt slight confusion and frustration. But most of all, I was full of doubt. Could I really even attempt to try their lifestyle? I thought about the barely satisfied feeling from the bison, and the high that I was on after the human. The insanely sinful, pleasure-filled high.

I knew I didn't need to chew it over for more than a fraction of a moment, because all directions pointed towards one conclusion: leaving.

I finally looked up to meet the blonde doctor's gaze. "I will _not_ go with you," I answered, completely content with my decision.

And like that, I'd turned on my heel and began to walk away.

"No," I heard, a sob erupting from a lady. It was the blonde. "He can't just leave like this. Will someone please do something? Say something?"

A pause. I felt myself flinch at the sound. Something about that voice tugged at me from the inside.

"_Anything?"_ I heard the voice say. "Carlisle? Someone, please!"

"Rosalie, it's his choice. It's not ours to make for him." The doctor.

"No, Carlisle, no," I heard her scream.

"We can't make him stay, sweetheart." A softer voice. The doctor's wife.

I kept walking, lengthening my stride and looking ahead.

"No!" I heard a woman yell.

But then I heard it. Footsteps coming from behind me.

_Enemy coming in hot!_ The voice, on edge.

I heard people yell, but I didn't register, all I knew was an enemy was coming after me.

A tug on my arm.

I could hear my opponent speak, but I couldn't understand what he was saying. My eyes filled with a red haze of danger, my whole body coiling into a spring.

In a fraction of a second, I turned to the enemy, and let out a booming growl at the fiend.

My hand gripped my opponent's neck, surprised at how small it was. I didn't care. Every bone in my body was programmed not to trust anyone. Not one being on this planet, including the one I clutched by the throat.

Snarls rolled from my chest, pouring out of my mouth as my opponent unsuccessfully fought my grip. I was a bit smug that I was so strong. I only squeezed further, satisfied by the metallic screech and crunch his skin made. I felt his flesh crack beneath my palm, and the pads of my fingers.

There were sounds of crying and protest, and as my aggression slowly receded, my mind began to make out the voices, only slightly familiar to me. The doctor's wife was sobbing, begging me to stop. I could here the smooth tone of the doctor, asking me to put her down.

_Her?_

Coming into clarity, my eyes focused on the creature, my supposed opponent I clasped by the neck. A flash came to my mind as I recognized the long waves of soft, golden hair. The strange, but beautiful eyes of my opponent that were losing focus as a result of my chokehold. I began to recognize her lashes, so long that they went from here to Chattanooga… as she fought her control of my grip.

A loud choke came from her, the voice no longer muffled, ringing in my ears. Like… wind chimes?

Did I know that sound?

A far part of my brain stirred, activating a memory in its confines—a blurry human one that it had suppressed. The beautiful angel. The one who carried me God. The one I'd go anywhere with. Even to hell.

"Yes, that is her," I heard someone say forcefully. It was Know-It-All's voice, slicing through my reverie.

This couldn't be… The same angel that stayed with me through hell. The one that I'd feared God would take away as I burned through that inferno.

"She is the one who never left your side," Know-it-All confirmed, taking a daring step towards me. "That's _her_."

My eyes switched to the redhead and then back to the blonde, delicate immortal I held by the neck. Could it be?

"She is the same woman that carried you home, and now you're hurting her," he uttered, every word slow and deliberate… and cutting through the red haze of my protective nature. "She was only trying to help you."

The angel? Was this the angel? My eyes flickered to Edward and back to my opponent… with the long, gorgeous blonde mane.

Oh, God.

"Please don't hurt Rosalie," he begged, his voice, though soft, held a strain in it.

I felt my grip wavering, and my limbs begin to tremble as reality started to seep into my mind and travel to the rest of my body. The angel—the one I'd follow for the rest of my existence.

"She is the one that held your hand," her brother continued, his words leading me closer and closer to what the red haze refused to let me see.

My angel. Voice like wind chimes. Heavenly. Lovely. The one I'd never wanted to leave my side as I burned through my change.

"That's her," the doctor's son confirmed. "She never left your side. She was there for you when you needed someone, when you were changing."

The trembling rolled through my body, and my vulnerability of my now seemingly distant last human moments began to filter through the haze. My defensive goggles were lifting from my eyes. I couldn't deny it anymore.

"Please, Emmett," Edward begged, his voice strained, yet soft. "Don't do this. You don't want to. I know you don't."

A shaky sigh left my mouth as my fingers finally loosened from her delicate neck, lowering my arm to set her lightly on her feet.

Her knees gave anyway, and she fell on her side, her head down, and her hand traveling to her neck.

The same neck I'd heard screech in near destruction. The same neck I'd felt crack beneath the flesh of my own hand, and actually rejoice over.

No.

I took several trembling steps back, and I turned my head away , refusing to look at her. I felt a strange rolling in the pit of my stomach. I felt like I was suffocating inside as I felt her eyes slowly open and look to me. I was drowning in deep shame and regret.

"Emmett?" I heard a raspy voice call me. Yet even with the rasp, I knew that wind chime anywhere. My head popped up reflexively.

However, as soon as I looked up, I instantly was remorseful… for I was met by the vision of the angel, with a torn, cracked neck… only a small movement towards snapping off completely. It felt like something was torn and ripped out of me, where my heart used to be. My stomach dropped to my feet.

"Good God." The words escaped my mouth in a breath without more than the one thought.

I'd almost beheaded the angel.

I'd almost ended her life.

But what got me the most was her face—the layers of emotions that her otherworldly features held. Anger. Disappointment. Pain. Sorrow. Those I could understand. But there more confused me. Desperation. Hope. Compassion. Forgiveness.

Hope? Compassion? _Forgiveness?_

_For me?_

Forgiveness and compassion_ for me?_

She truly was an angel of God.

And I truly was the devil to try to kill her.

In that instant, I knew I couldn't stay. My mind worked within these quick seconds to make the decision. I couldn't deal with their lifestyle to begin with, and now that I'd nearly murdered the one thing that held me to this earth, I knew I wasn't worth of any of them. So then I turned, and began to run the other direction… towards a life on my own.

"Son, please wait," the doctor beseeched. Though I winced at the good doctor's desire to talk me out of it, I just couldn't do it. My movements kept to pushing on the balls of my feet away from the coven.

"Emmett, please," the raspy wind chimes called after me. "Don't go."

I shivered at the sound of the angel begging me to stay, but the guilt kept my legs trucking forward. My fingers curled into a fist, and I sighed in resignation. My feet led me away from the life I didn't believe I could ever live, but wished that I could.

They directed me away from the only person I wished I was worthy of having.

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Author's Note:

**Please review and let me know what you think**, **as each review feed my creative soul, and inspires me to keep writing.**

**For more updates, follow me on twitter at achelle131**

And if you like the story and want to discuss that or anything further, please come by and play on the Vanity and Patience thread in the forum under Fanfiction/Pre-Twilight.

To read Vanity and Patience please find the link on my profile.


	5. Chapter 5: When Remorse Sneaks up on Ya

To read Vanity and Patience, which is the original this fic is based on, please go to my profile and find the link.

_Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, and its characters, or plot. The characters, books, and plot are property of Stephenie Meyer. I make no money from writing this. I just love Twilight._

**Warning: Lemons in future chapters. Rated NC-17 for a reason. Violence, adult language, drugs, assault, and sexual content.**

**Chapter Specific Warning: Adult content, but no lemons. **

Big thanks to my beta, Lisa aka cfmom, who totally rocks. This story would not be what it is without her.

Playlist:

Ernie Halter – Whisper

John Waithe – Missing You

One Republic – Apologize

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**Chapter 5: When Remorse Sneaks up on Ya 'n' Kicks Ya in the Keister**

I knew I was somewhere in the Carolinas, in a medium sized town, scaling the buildings and hopping on roofs as quietly as possible. I'd finally rested on an interesting spot, overlooking the busiest street. As I glanced around the streets from the rooftop of a small store, my throat felt like a potbelly stove, roasting in ardent thirst.

I was ready for my next hunt.

I observed the prey that walked by, looking for the right one, the right moment, the private, isolated moment that I could take it discreetly and suck the living daylights out of my prize.

There were a few groups here and there, but in the mask of my blood craze, I saw them as herds of wildlife, and I was a bear… waiting, ready.

One particular herd veered off, and my eyes zeroed in on one that seemed to be left behind, too slow for the rest of its contemporaries wait for it to catch up. My ears caught the sound of the beating heart, every wet thump pumping something amazingly scrumptious through its veins. The scent assaulted my airways, and my throat went from a stove to a large furnace full of roaring fiery longing and hunger.

I took one step into the air, letting myself fall and landed softly on my feet in a nearby ally. I snatched the little creature, easy as pie, muffling its small cries with my hand over its mouth while my other hand.

The feeble creature didn't put up a fight, and though a small part of my mind realized this one was smaller and weaker than most I've killed, I didn't care. I wanted this—_needed_ this—more than anything.

Without further ado, I brought my mouth to its freshly broken neck. I felt the tantalizing pulse of my prey beneath my tongue before I sank my teeth into the flesh. My razor sharp incisors cut through the thin membrane of skin and layers of muscle like butter, and almost immediately, my mouth was flooded with warm, thick, salty goodness. It hit my stomach and I rejoiced in a roar, as the source of my life's existence came to be one with me. There was nothing in the world that could ever compete with this feeling, sating your thirst with a good healthy dose of human blood.

It was what we were built for.

Why the hell would we deny it?

An image flashed in my mind of the misguided doctor and his family as I filled my belly, relishing the savory liquor from my prey's veins to the last drops. They were some silly folk to think that I could give this up, and take on their lifestyle. The reward of such top grade nourishment was all that I had lived for these past few days, and I intended to carry on this way.

I fed when I needed, with this being my ninth human kill, men and women of all ages. The doctor and his psychic son hunted me down to tell me of the rules of the so-called Volturi that first day. They approached me, keeping a few yards of physical space between us, their hands up in a sign of peace. I couldn't really blame them, as I'd snarled at them, crouched and ready to lunge at them in self-defense. I couldn't be too certain if they were there to avenge the angel's injury.

Luckily, they had calmed me down enough for me to stop and listen to them. With a slow approach, their hands raised in peace, and their calm tone, they were able to talk me down from my distrust and anger. It was hard not to listen to the doctor, who seemed so kind and sincere for a vampire.

I'd thought that being immortal meant invincibility, but apparently there were others that could make even the most invincible fall. The Volturi sounded like they needed to be taken down, but the doctor and his son were adamant about their power and their danger. A collection of the most powerful of immortals with special abilities could certainly impair and end an individual. That wasn't what I was after. Death didn't become me, and this life was just way too neat for me to give up.

I'd kept my word that I didn't want to bring trouble. I'd traveled south, as far as Georgia, spreading my kills through a span of several states, to keep my killings from being suspect. On occasion I fed on animals, but they were never to my liking. Once I'd even hunted livestock from a farmer in Kentucky—all his cattle, even his horses. I tried my best to spare the farmer himself, but ended up feeding on him the next day. And his wife.

But aside from keeping my kills discreet, nothing could stop me if I wanted it. No one could ever get in the way of my chosen prey and me.

As I finished draining the limp corpse, I dropped it down before me, my eyes changing in focus from their red-blurred, thirsty vision to give me a clear picture of my latest conquered creature.

I froze, a gasp escaping from my lips in utter dread.

My stomach twisted with a sharp pain as my eyes took in the sight of what I'd just drank... the frail lifeless being in front of me.

It was young schoolgirl—no older than six, still in her school uniform.

She had bright red hair, with freckles that dotted her pale face, and immediately my mind recollected a blurry image of someone I knew in a past life.

Betty?

The name came to me before I could even figure out what the person was to me in my past life. Family? A friend?

She was a young version of the girl I once knew, one that I'd known what felt like a lifetime ago. The image of Betty wasn't clear in my head anymore, but the likeness of this child to the fuzzy memory was so uncanny that my stomach rolled in discomfort once again.

Fuck.

I'd killed little Betty.

I immediately backed away, my back hitting the brick wall of the building behind me. I sank down to my ass, till I sat with my legs bent in front of me, trying to understand what I'd just done.

She was just a little girl—a helpless fragile little girl.

_What have I become?_

My heart broke for the poor, defenseless kid. I was no match for her, at least twice her size and one hundred times stronger, yet in my bloodlust I still pursued her like I did. My hands balled into fists at my side as I pounded the floor in dismay, my stomach doing flips within me. I grabbed my abdomen in response, but I was powerless to stop such a gut-wrenching sensation.

It wasn't until the frenzy had passed, directly after feeding, that I could actually think straight. This was when reality set in, and at this moment, it all came crashing down on me.

I shut my eyes in shame, but was hardly rewarded with what I saw in my mind. An unwanted memory I'd tried hard to suppress came back to me, the same familiar stomach pang. I'd only felt it one other time, just a bit over a week ago, only by much larger magnitude.

This happened often. I couldn't see past the red haze of my bloodlust. That much was true. Nothing could penetrate such a frenzy, but once it all passed, once I was satiated, the fiery haze that blurred my sight only brought one vision back consistently. It was another thing that entered my mind just as soon as I was done quenching my thirst—her haunting butterscotch eyes.

The angel.

The beautiful angel, the Godsend, the one that I didn't want to think of ever again—that'd run hundred miles to forget—seemed to bewitch my consciousness whenever sense returned to me. I recalled knowing that I could never look at her the way I'd looked at other dames before. The thought of her rocked me to my core, something I was sure no cat could ever resist. She flooded my mind day after day: her long golden hair, her porcelain skin, her perfect rose-colored lips, and piercing amber eyes. Those eyes had been haunting me for days.

My stomach seemed to distort as my mind spiraled into my next thought. I didn't understand it either, and the aching part of my stomach would always come to me just as I would relive my last memory of her. It came when I would remember what I'd last done to her with my own hands before I'd left. The heavenly face would only last but a second, always followed by the image of the angel, lying on her side, gasping for air in obvious pain. Her neck, cracked and lacerated, was covered with wounds in the shape of a large hand.

_My _hand.

My greedy, uncontrollable, senseless hand.

I held my hand up to my face, staring at it, detesting it. It was my enemy. I could never be worthy of such an angel by my side again with a hand like this one.

I exhaled deeply, turning up to the sky and opening my eyes, my thoughts turning to that face again. The face smiled down on me from the sky—from the heavens.

The angel.

Even after I'd nearly slain her, she still looked at me with an open vulnerability, a fear of abandonment, her eyes full of hope and tenderness.

Hope and tenderness that I didn't deserve.

It took all of me to leave those heavenly eyes. But I did it.

I had to.

How else could I ever seek redemption for what I almost did?

She'd been at my side while I burned though my change. She'd been an angel for me during my hell, and I'd repaid her by almost ending her life. She'd carried me all the way home without so much as a thought at trying to consume my blood—an impossible feat for me, I was positive.

It wasn't until this moment that I realized fully what this twisting and flipping in my gut was.

Remorse.

I'd been careful enough in my life to live each day without any regret, and now I was drowning in it. In fact I was so deep in this remorseful ocean that I couldn't see the surface anymore. I didn't know which way to go to gasp for air again, metaphorically speaking, of course.

Unwillingly, I permitted myself another glance at the little girl. Her body lay inert, and colorless. Was this really what I wanted to do? Had this really been what I'd set out to commit to when I left the doctor's family?

Her lifeless eyes were still open—pale green, just like Betty's. My stomach did another uncomfortable flip. I turned away, shutting my own eyes from the vision of the dead green ones pointing to nowhere. It was a symbol of what I'd become, and though I'd accepted it in my other eight kills, none had effected me as this one.

Was the good doctor right?

Had I gone down the wrong path?

Could I really give up all of the luscious, savory, scarlet juice that only a human could provide?

I opened my eyes again, forcing myself to recognize the consequences of my actions. Somewhere out there, a mother and father were looking for their baby girl. Somewhere out there, people who love her were never going to hear her laugh again.

I sat up suddenly, realizing what I knew I had to do.

I had to go back.

I had to return to the good doctor's family, and learn their ways. There was another way to live this life, without any regret or remorse, like I'd always done.

But that wasn't the only reason why I wanted to return to that house.

Against my better judgment, a huge part of me wanted to see her again, though I knew nothing of why I had to. I was no good around her, and I wasn't sure I could ever be. Still, there was a longing with in me that I'd never felt before, an ache that was hardly bearable.

I let out another sigh as I banged the back of my head against the wall, hearing the bricks crack behind my skull.

Whoops.

I tried to dust away the mess of pulverized brick, shaking my head to myself. I still didn't understand my own strength.

Those green lifeless eyes of the child corpse before me clouded my mind with shame… the same shame that I felt for what I'd almost done to the angel.

And I knew at that moment that this wasn't the path for me.

I couldn't do this anymore.

I stood up and carried the body gingerly, struggling with my will not to be a nancy and cry as I thought of the poor, wasted life—her future that ended because of my callous hunger. With one gentle swipe of my fingers, I pushed her eyelids shut, ready to dispose of her corpse, and head on back to Appalachia.

As I found a spot deep in the thick of the nearby woods to bury the body, my stomach tossed in uncomfortable repentance over my murder of the poor kid. I was able to lift a shovel from an abandoned barn on the way. I shoveled the ground as fast as I could, placing little Betty's remains sorrowfully into the ditch before covering it again. I knew I couldn't do this, and I realized that the good vampire doctor and his coven weren't so misguided after all.

As I hastily threw dirt on the lifeless child's body, the angel's face plagued my mind again. Even as I fashioned a cross out of two branches to lay on the mound of dirt in respect for the little one. Even as I said a small prayer to God for her soul.

Even then, I thought of the angel.

No matter how much I denied it, the truth was there, inside of me, eating at my body—at my soul. My eyes longed to see her, my ears craved the sound of her wind chime voice, my nose desired her sweet, rosy-vanilla scent, and my heart absolutely ached to be around her again.

And before I even knew what I was doing, I was running, as fast as my vampire abilities would let me, in the direction of Appalachia, Virginia.

I pushed off the balls of my feet, pushed my legs forward for miles and miles. I ran and ran until the forest grew familiar, and I knew I was on the right path when I caught scent of the doctor and his Know-it-all kid.

I edged closer—I knew it by the scent of the coven members growing stronger with every stride in their direction. Apprehension rolled through my abdomen, like a million butterflies that would fill my stomach at the top of the first hill of a roller coaster. Their wings flapped around uneasily within me as I reached the clearing. I had no doubt the family was home, because I could hear three sets of breathing in the house as I neared its amazing structure. It was larger than I remembered. Then again, the only time I really looked at it was when I was walking away, as I was no condition to appreciate it when I arrived close to dead.

The butterflies multiplied as I paused right before the porch steps. Their wings fluttered restlessly in my chest cavity, remorse and shame causing my stomach to contort anxiously. I could hear a flood of music from inside—a piano, I think it was— and the angel's face came to mind. Something about the sweet but somber melody reminded me of her. I felt like I was going to vomit, the first I'd ever felt of nausea since my change.

Was this the right choice? I had been so sure before, but the apprehension was making me lose confidence in my decision

But I knew. I knew I had to do this. I told myself I was strong enough to face them, even in my shame. Even in my repentance.

After a small instance of hesitation, I tapped the heavy wood of the door with my knuckles.

The music stopped, and the door swung open.

The blonde doctor was at the door. His kind, yellow eyes were full of relief, concern, and welcome. "Emmett, son, please,"—he gestured inside with his hand— "come on in."

Know-it-all stood beside him, as expected. He probably heard my thoughts in my approach.

I wasn't sure how to begin. "I—," I stuttered, standing on our porch timorously. "I followed your scent here."

"That's all right, Emmett. Come inside, will you?" The doctor smiled at me, his expression warm and inviting.

"I'd like a chance to start over," I explained, unable to move from where I was. I wasn't sure I really deserved to be welcomed back into this home. I shifted my weight and shuffled my feet apprehensively.

The doctor's wife and Know-It-All now appeared just behind the physician.

"Of course you can, son," the doctor insisted.

"I'm sorry for being such an ass," I muttered, but I winced with my word choice. I wasn't sure of how to speak to him, but I had a sudden realization that I needed to give more respect. "I never meant to hurt any of you."

"We know that, and it's fine," the doctor's wife said. Her voice was smooth. Something about her reminded me of my own mother. "Please come inside, Emmett. You know you are welcome here."

I hesitated at the door, catching everyone's scent, and realizing there was one more person in the room—a distinct perfume of roses and vanilla. I took a deep breath. "I'm not sure if I can do what you guys do, but I also know I can't keep killing people," he sighed. I'd never heard my voice like this before, a mixture of confliction and defeat. I tried to sound as sincere as possible.

That's when I saw a flash of long, golden blonde hair, and the gorgeous face of the angel peering at me from behind the others.

Pain shot through me like I was being knifed through my abdomen, sharp, burning. The guilt was that strong when I looked at her. I felt my insides shred into little pieces, averting my eyes from her and looking at the others instead.

I took a few steps forward, making my way into their fancy foyer, the doctor and his wife encouraging every step with their smiles.

I couldn't help it. I guessed I must be a glutton for punishment. A masochist. I snuck a glance at the pretty angel as I passed her on the way to the staircase. It was only a small glance, but my mind analyzed the vision in a matter of microseconds. Her amber eyes were plenty darker than I'd remembered, and I had to wonder why. A timid smile grew on her heavenly face, shocking me.

All I could think about in that small moment was how I'd almost killed her.

I switched my eyes away from her, the pang of remorse setting camp within my stomach. The knife plunged in deeper. Yep. Pure masochist.

I stepped forward as the doctor guided me upstairs to a spare bedroom. He and his wife kept a large bubble of physical space—about eight to ten feet or so—between us, probably out of caution.

Smart, I thought, because even when I found them sincere, there was an edge to my thoughts that questioned their trust. I wasn't sure if that was just a vampire thing or a newborn thing, but it left a cat paranoid in the back of his head.

I'd spent the rest of the afternoon in the new bedroom. It was pale with dark furniture, fancier than I've ever used, nicer than anything my family's ever owned. I felt out of place here.

I didn't care for company, but I could hear the whispers of the family down below, their curiosity as they leaned on Know-it-all—I think his name was Edward—for an update on the week that I'd spent gorging on innocent humans. Though it bothered me that he would give away such private thoughts, I realized to live in this home; they'd have to know what I'd been doing, and what my plans were. It wasn't something I'd felt vocal about, so part of me was actually relieved that he'd done it for me.

_Thanks,_ I said mentally, though I felt like a fool sending a thought down to the obviously telepathic man downstairs.

After a while, a soft knock at my door startled me, and I opened it slowly.

It was the doctor's wife, whom I'd now learned was named Esme.

"Hello," she said, softly, her feet planted in the hallway.

I nodded my head, taking a step back.

There was a small moment of awkward silence before she spoke. "This most likely wont fit, but I figured you'd like a change of clothes before we can get a chance to shop for you."

I looked down at my soiled outfit, the same that I'd worn since my change, since the bear had tried its hand at killing me. "Oh, thank you," I said, suddenly a little embarrassed that I had nothing else to offer her in return. "This should be good."

She began to move forward with her arms stretched, ready to hand me the pile of clothes, when I took several steps back. I took an earlier cue from the doctor, putting the same amount of space between his sweet wife and me.

"Oh." She said, stepping back. "Right." She turned to place the clothing on the credenza in the hall. "They'll be right here then."

"Thank you," I said as cleared my throat, making a pitiful attempt at a smile.

She smiled back, her fingers clasping each other as her hands came together in front of her. "I really am pleased that you decided to come back to us, Emmett."

With that statement, I was able to give her a true smile. She had such a maternal presence. Any joe would be a heartless dick not to recognize that.

She stood for only a moment before saying "We're just down the hall if you need anything." With a wave, she was gone.

The pants were short but it was better than nothing. I didn't bother looking at myself in the mirror, and I froze like a statue once more.

Something nagged at me as I stood as a sculpture, chewing over my decision to come back here. I'd apologized to the family collectively, but I felt my job was not complete. There was an apology left hanging, lingering in the air.

It was the most significant apology I'd ever have to issue in my life.

That angel—the fruit of my demise.

Her golden eyes haunted my thoughts again. To think just earlier today, her beautiful lips— rosy in color, even for a vampire—stretched in a smile in my direction that my previous behavior didn't warrant.

I needed to tell her how sorry I was. The angel didn't deserve the pain I'd caused her. I was clearly a danger to her.

That apology wasn't the only thing lingering in the air. In the time that I'd stood there, motionless, my lungs had filled with a burn, and my throat was a potbelly stove once again.

I needed to hunt.

They weren't joking about newbornsI was a slave to my blood thirst.

I remembered how the angel's brother could read my thoughts, wondering if he could help me. Maybe he had advice, both with how to approach his sister, and where to hunt the best animal blood.

I fought trying to wince at the thought. The elk, from what I remembered, was not appetizing. I was hoping that maybe they were right about carnivores. Maybe I could find a wild cat, or even a bear.

I tried to be as stealthy as possible as I opened the door and stepped out of the room, Know-it-All already in the hall.

_Oh, good. You heard me._

He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He smiled a little, nodding.

_I don't know how to go about doing this. Apologizing to your sister… I cant even… I don't know where to…_

He motioned for me to follow him down the stairs. I walked with him, following out the door and through their lawn, to the far end of the property. Know-it-all turned to me suddenly, his voice low. "I needed you out here because she could hear us in the house."

I nodded in agreement. "Good thinking."

"It's Edward, by the way."

"Right. Got it." I nodded. "Edward."

"I've got an idea, and then afterwards we can go hunting. It'll be probably best that you come with either Carlisle or me when you hunt. We'll leave the ladies out of this for a while—to keep from a repeat of what had transpired the last time."

Shame swirled around to linger at remorse's campsite in my stomach. "Right."

It was a few moments later that I found myself staring at the house, up to the window that Edward had pointed out to me.

I couldn't put one foot in front of the other at the thought of what I was about to do. The thought of her was like a knife again, twisting and cutting at my chest in angry, shameful, violent shapes.

I looked back at Edward, shooting him a nervous glance.

He nodded at me encouragingly. He pointed to the ground at his feet, a silent gesture to let me know he was here for me.

You had to appreciate the guy. He was quite supportive.

After all the angel had done for me, I knew I owed her this much. To acknowledge my wrong. To apologize for it. To beg for her forgiveness, though I totally understood if she was never going to give it.

I coiled and sprung, jumping high to land right on the sill of her open window, and hopped down, the balls of my feet landing lightly on her floor. Her room smelled much like her, floral and sweet.

She sat on her couch, reading a textbook. Her golden mane fell forward, and in combination with the evening's shadows, hid her face from me.

She looked up when she sensed me there, which didn't take but a second. "Emmett?" her wind chimed voice breathed. She was startled, but something else lingered in the pitch of her voice. Was it excitement? My mouth pressed into a line. It was the completely wrong emotion for her to have.

She stood up, looking like she wanted to come up to me.

"Please," I breathed softly, lifting up my hands to halt her. "Stay where you are. I can't afford a chance that I'd harm you again. If I suddenly turn on you again I don't know if I can control myself."

"What… are you doing here?" Her voice was shaky.

Maybe she was scared.

Good, the forefront of my thoughts said. She should be. But there was a small part, deep within me that hurt at the thought that she could fear me.

"I wanted… I wanted t-to." I hated that I stuttered, pausing only to gather myself. Looking at her wasn't helping, so I made like a chicken and stared at my feet. I brought my hands down letting my arms fall to my sides.

_I can do this_, I told myself. _I can talk to her._

I took another deep breath for courage before looking up and speaking again. "I wanted to apologize to you… formally." There I said it. "Ask for your forgiveness." I wasn't sure why I said my last phrase. As if I was translating the word 'apologize' to a foreigner.

Her huge ochre eyes grew wide. "Apologize? What for?"

"I never meant to hurt you. To …to turn on you like I did. I—"

"Don't apologize, Emmett, please," she interjected, stepping forward.

Damn her for wanting to stand near me. Doesn't she know I'm a danger to her?

"No, I want you to know, I would never lay a hand on a lady." I was nervous, and I felt it. I was rarely rendered nervous, chronically vomiting phrases that meant nothing. My mouth opened. "Not like that. I'm a McCarty, and we don't hit women." There it was, my nonsensical rambling—offering information that wasn't relevant to the conversation.

She took another idiotic step forward and I took a very deliberate step back.

I opened my mouth again, praying to God that I made sense this time. "Especially not you." My insides grew tight where my heart once beat. Her pretty face—God, I would never be good enough to get next to the likes of her. "You didn't deserve that," I lamented in a whisper. I shook my head. "I'm such an ass."

"Emmett, I know that wasn't you."

God that voice—it made me want to cry.

She moved in my direction. "You weren't yourself."

I shook my head in protest. "Please forgive me."

"I—" she began, but my desperation for her forgiveness must've been in my expression, because she didn't argue any further.

"I forgive you," she said in a breath, and took another step forward.

What the hell was wrong with her? "Step back," I groaned, raising my hands back up. She really needed to stop doing this to herself.

Like a light switch, I could feel the newborn side of me turn on… like warming up the engine of an automobile before you were able to take it on a ride. I could feel the red haze begin to seep in my vision.

_Enemy_, the voice in my head said.

Like a piece of cardboard, I felt my inner self tear in half. _No. _That tightening in my chest, the part that pained when it learned of the angel's fear for me, suddenly had a voice of its own.

But the angel continued to move towards me slowly anyway.

A snarl broke loose from my mouth, and I could feel my hands work to attack her. _Enemy closing in!_ I balled my hands into fists in protest of my stubborn, volatile nature.

But before I'd let that animalistic side take over, I flung myself out the window. Landing on the grass of the lawn and jumping in such an uncalculated rush, I'd lost my footing. I tripped and fell on my side. So much for a graceful landing.

"Emmett," I heard her cry softly after me.

I was busy looking down at myself as I stood up, brushing the dead grass off of my short pants and tight shirt. When I'd looked up Edward was at her window.

"He just wanted to apologize to you in private. But now we're going hunting," he explained quietly.

"Hunting?" Her voice was full of hope that didn't make sense. "What—wait. I'll go with you," I heard the crazy young lady insist.

I shook my head, getting on my feet, positioning myself to run in the other direction. The burn in my throat flared in response of my need, providing a large distraction from the girl upstairs who had seemed to lose her sense.

"No, Rose," I heard Edward say. "You shouldn't. Not right now."

"But Edward—"

I shut my eyes at the sound of the dame's voice. This was not going to be easy, so I began a light jog towards the forest, waiting right at the beginning of the wooded area for Edward. I was waist deep in the scorching pain of my throat that hunger gave me.

"Rose, stay home. It's not the right time," Edward pleaded. He hopped out of her window to join me. He took one last look at her before running in my direction.

My air passage was up in flames, a larger part of me growing impatient. My jog became a human-paced sprint.

"Edward," I heard the angel's voice call out in the night.

Running backwards, he said, "Let him be for now, Rose. Now is not the time."

The boy was fast, I had to give him that. He made a noise as he caught up with me, his face amused. It was as if it was in response to a thought, but my nose had caught wind of something carnivorous just north of where we were running… and I could care less what he was thinking.

Thirst and blood claimed my young vampire mind and my body once again.

I turned myself over to my instincts, because it was the easier thing to do and the only thing my entire mind could handle.

A slave to my thirst, indeed.

* * *

**Endnotes:**

Thanks for coming by. I've got ideas for future chapters on this story, but I have to warn that since it's a companion fic to V&P, it won't have as many updates. This is, however, a way for me to let V&P live on, so I even though I don't guarantee constant updates, I will be back for _Strength and Remorse_.

For all of you _**Vanity and Patience**_ fans, I still have an **Epilogue** to write. I'm about 2,000 words in, and I hope to get it up in the next month or two.

If you're a fan of my writing, I have started a short story on Rachel Black and her imprinted, Paul. The first chapter is out, with the second one coming very soon. The story is called _Hungry Like The Wolf. _Check it out from the link on my profile


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